A Dark Boy Named Marvin
by quiet quill
Summary: Fighting one of the greatest threats to the wizarding world requires a cutting sense of humor, a healthy dose of sarcasm, and a fierce intellect. Dumbledore has found just the man- er boy- for the job. He just needs a little convincing.
1. Chapter 1

Quiet loomed about the library, stifling the air and whatever remote dust particles that were wont to hang about. The first shades of evening filtered through the vaulted windows, casting the shelves and their occupants in an eerie shade of grey. The tables and chairs, laden with the trappings of knowledge and the half-hearted attempts to attain said knowledge, had long since been abandoned in favor of Friday-night.

In a distant, half-forgotten alcove, the tip of a single wand shone with a silvery light, its owner following its steady glow with a meticulousness that bordered on obsession. His features, lit from below, glowed a pale blue, and cut a striking contrast against his dark robes and even darker eyes. He was engrossed in his work. The accompanying stillness suited his needs perfectly.

_Who would pour over __Oblivitates: Memoria in Perpetuum__ in anything but silence? _He mused to himself as he read over his notes. A smile broke across his face. He almost had enough work to write his own!

He shook his head. That would have to wait for another time he thought as he stretched the muscles in his neck. They were stiff and sore and protested the sudden movement. His eyes were sore, too. Or at least, he assumed so as everything in his vision started to sway.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose, but the haze grew steadily worse. It started to ripple and then wave, and then pulled. The room seemed to stretch, swallowing in on itself at every seam.

And then suddenly, crack! It flashed like lightening, and a gale-force wind erupted across his notes, churning the pages into a mass vortex. It whirled up, down, and around him. It tore at his eyes, his face, his throat. The force surrounded him, filling him until he felt ready to burst.

Tom screamed and then was gone.

And just as quickly as it came, it left.

The piles of parchment that had been whipped into a storm, flapped and fluttered to the floor. The books lay in disarray on the table, with the chair leaning awkwardly against the wall.

However, amidst all the academic ruin, the tall, lanky form of Tom Marvolo Riddle was nowhere to be seen. He had vanished from Hogwart's school library, and if the shelves had anything to say about his whereabouts, they were being conspicuously quiet about it.  
…...


	2. Chapter 2

Tom gasped and choked as his lungs tried to purge and fill at the same time. He clenched his eyes shut, forcing his head through his knees. It took three long breaths before he could swallow the bile at the back throat, and another five before he opened his eyes.

He squinted at the fabric between his knees. It was a bright, blood red that seemed to throb in time with the pain at the back of his eyes. The next few minutes passed with agonizing slowness as he waited for the black dots to recede from his vision. With a groan, he forced himself to look up.

A desk, littered with documents and gadgets chirped and buzzed with wizard efficiency. Tom watched as the Hogwarts stamp hopped from one official-looking paper to another— this one from the Ministry of Magic, this one from St. Mungo's. All this wizarding business was monitored under the watchful eyes of all the previous headmasters. Tom recognized their stares. He'd been under their scrutiny before.

There was no mistaking it—he was in the Headmaster's office. And, it was occupied by someone other than Headmaster Dippet.

He was an aged wizard—that much Tom was sure of. His hair was long and silver and matched his long, silver beard. His hands which he held steepled in front of his chin were like gnarled branches, the knuckles protruding like knots. Tom half-expected to hear the man creak when he unfurled his hands to speak.

The lines in his face, and there were many, seemed to grow from the half-moon spectacles that perched at the end of his nose. Tom looked to their source. Two bright, blue eyes stared back.

"Professor Dumbledore?" His response had been automatic.

"Hello Tom," the man said with a tight smile.

"What happened to Headmaster Dippet?"

Dumbledore pointed to the portrait over at his left shoulder. "He retired some years ago. I'm Headmaster now."

"Headmaster…" Tom felt the corners of his lips twist down. "For how long?"

"39 years."

"I see." Tom picked at the hem of his sleeve. "I suppose 'congratulations' are in order then." He drew out each syllable hoping to keep the skepticism from his voice.

"I thank you my boy, but I don't think that will be necessary. You see, I called you here to ask a favor of you."

"Here…" Tom's voice trailed off. "Here being… the Headmaster's office circa 1995?"

"October 4, 1996," Dumbledore replied. "Well done, Tom. I suppose I had forgotten just how sharp you could be. I should know better by now than to underestimate your intelligence, shouldn't I?"

"Yes, Headmaster, you should."

"I suppose I have been working with too many Gryffindors as of late." He chuckled to himself. "I would hope, however, that at least one lion—or lioness—would prove to be a challenge."

"Strange, I don't recall you being so—_optimistic_—in the past_._"

Dumbledore smiled. "I like to think of it as my growing sentimentality. I have confidence in my lions."

"And contempt for everyone else." Tom smiled back. "Joking aside Headmaster, I think we've beat around the quaffle long enough. Go ahead and tell me. Why am I here?"

"I suppose you could say I need your intelligence."

"And what would I have against your vaunted lions? Aren't they your mighty 'champions'?"

"I said she was good, not infallible."

"So it's a _she_ and not a he."

Dumbledore sighed. "Yes Tom. I believe Miss Granger could match you wand-for-wand in most subjects." He fixed Tom with a stare. "_Most_, but not all. She doesn't share the same propensity for the more—unsavory—sides of magic."

Tom felt his lips press into a thin smile. "So you summoned me to… help."

Dumbledore nodded. "You possess a knowledge of the Dark Arts that I haven't been able to find anywhere else."

"Not even in the resident genius."

"Yes, not even in her," Dumbledore admitted darkly. "You are familiar with the term _horcrux_."

Tom raised his brow somewhat wary of the conversation's new thread. He gave a slight nod.

Dumbledore ran a hand over his weary features. "What if I told you one of the most intelligent, and, arguably one of the most dangerous, wizards of the age has seven."

Tom's head snapped up as his eyes fixed onto the Headmaster's own. Seven Horcruxes? The very idea sent shivers down his spine.

"I need your research," Dumbledore entreated. "I need a way to neutralize a Horcrux."

"You're asking me?" Tom's voice rose slightly, his pulse quickening in his chest. He forced himself to take a deep breath. He had to remember this was Dumbledore asking him. "Why?"

"Why wouldn't you?" The Headmaster rejoined. "I have given you the freedom to research what you wanted. I've asked you—no—_encouraged_ you to study the Dark Arts. What more could you want?"

Tom's eyes narrowed as he searched the old man's face for a twinge, a tick, a shadow—anything that might reveal his purpose. Everything had its price, and he was certain that this would too. The question was: would it be worth the cost?

Tom shook his head. "Send me back. I'd rather make my own future than be a part of yours."

"I'm sorry, my boy. I can't."

"Can't, or won't?"

Dumbledore didn't respond.

"So, I'm stuck here." Tom felt a slow, burning anger fill his chest.

"I wouldn't consider it stuck, Tom. I'd think of it as a whole new lease on life." He let out a bark of laughter, and Tom grew angrier.

"What if I don't want to?"

Dumbledore's eyes grew bright as a gust of wind erupted from the man's glowing frame. "Then 1943 will be but a memory and your magic something you read in Muggle fairy tales."

Tom felt a shiver run down his spine as sweat began to bead along his brow. _This_ was Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry? He could have laughed for folly had he not been staring down 11 inches of phoenix and holly-down.

"When put like that, Headmaster, I am _powerless_ to refuse." His obsidian eyes took a dark light. "Consider my cooperation yours—for now."

….


	3. Chapter 3

Dumbledore shuddered at the loathing in Tom's voice. Would he ever be able to compromise with the boy? He sighed heavily. "Thank you, Tom. There's just one more thing…"

Tom's head snapped up. He heard Dumbledore's wand rap against the desk—once—twice. His eyes immediately honed in on the shining point.

"We have to change your name," Dumbledore explained. "We can't have had Tom Riddle twice! If anyone were to discover… but—no—we'll make sure that doesn't happen, wont we, my boy. "

Tom pursed his lips together. He failed to see how that affected _him_ in any way.

"So, what will it be?"

Tom paused for a moment, letting Dumbledore's words wash over him. He didn't want to go along with the Headmaster's plan. Did he even have a choice? His brows drew together in a dark line.

He'd find his own way back. He promised himself. He'd have to tolerate Dumbledore until then.

"Marvin. Marvin Grey." He answered in a steady voice.

"Marvin Grey." The Headmaster tilted his head. "I'm glad to make your acquaintance," he said, an unusual finality in his voice. He drew his wand and began to incant. "Let no one associate you with your past," he boomed, "for you are no longer who you once were."

Runes burst forth from his wand tip and the air charged with magic. An ominous cloud rolled forth and enveloped the boy's form in a thick fog. It began as an unpleasant thrum, but soon escalated into a feverish pitch. Tom clutched at his head and thrashed in his chair. The noise prickled along his skin like a thousand needles and stole into his mind.

It gnawed at his memories and _burned_. It scalded and seared, and it tore huge, gaping holes into the fabric that had once been his life. Every moment he had lived, precious and not, had been reduced to ash. His mind was a desolate wasteland.

He screamed. He screamed until his lungs ached and his throat stung, until a fit of coughs wracked his body and he spat up blood. He clutched at his stomach and doubled over in pain. Only one thought, and one alone, broke through his mounting delirium. Dumbledore had betrayed him. Dumbledore had cursed him.

"YOU!" He raged, his voice coming out in a raw whisper.

Dumbledore winced. "I am truly sorry, my boy." His reply was soft, a look of genuine regret flashing across his face. "But, if you knew what I knew…" He trailed off, raising his palms to the sky, in some wordless gesture of futility.

Marvin shook his head in utter disbelief.

"I needed assurance," the Headmaster rejoined, his voice mounting with fervor, "assurance that no one, not even _you_, would know who you were."

"Who I was…" he parroted, trying to recall anything about his past. He scoured his mind for even a clue, but all was gone. He couldn't remember.

His mind was blank, filled with a white static.

He choked on a sob, tears stinging his eyes. His breath came short and fast in his throat. His magic was there. All the information he need for his "task" was there. Even his knowledge of the Dark Arts had remained untouched.

All of it was there. Everything except for _himself_.

"Headmaster! Haven't you done enough already?" he yelled, his voice going hoarse. "By Salazaar! You can't want anything more, can you?"

"You are free to go, Marvin," the Headmaster said with a weary wave of his wand. "But," he added with one last caveat, "remember that I am your connection, your_ only_, connection to your past. Do not disobey me."

Marvin shot the Headmaster a look of pure hatred. Every line in his body quaked with his anger, but he did not raise his voice again.

The Headmaster continued on without pause. "I have requested for a prefect to come and show you the school. He will be your guide. He is under the impression that you are a transfer student. You will do nothing to dissuade him of this. Do you understand?"

Marvin neither acknowledged Dumbledore's words, nor gave his assent. He merely tossed his old scarf and badge to the floor and left.

The Headmaster watched the boy's retreat. He heard the gargoyle grind back into place. When he was certain the boy had truly gone, he slumped forward into his chair. Had he really done right in cursing the boy? Now, he wasn't so sure.

What could he say to the boy he knew to be Voldemort the man?

Dumbledore cradled his head in his hands. It seemed like a sudden weariness would overtake him. He was just so tired, he thought pressing a long, wizened finger to the side of his temple.

"Good Godric," he moaned. What had he done?

….


	4. Chapter 4

Marvin stormed out of the Headmaster's office, his rage coming off of him in waves. The old fool! He'd see him hexed by his own curse!

But as he rounded the last step into the hallway he was bombarded by a red blur. It nearly crashed into him, only just avoided collision by diving into the gargoyle.

"Whoa! S'ry bout that!"

Marvin watched as the mass of tangled limbs righted itself and then grew into the red-haired form of the boy in front of him. He was tall, too tall, as if he had gone through a growth spurt and not yet caught up. And his red hair hung from his head like an old mop.

He was a huffing, puffing, red-haired locomotive, and he stood before him with a giant gob-smacked grin on his face. "Name's Ron, Ron Weasley. I'm here to show you around."

Marvin took a step back. He couldn't match the boy's height, but he could at least present the boy with what he thought to be a well-groomed image.

"Marvin Grey. I'm—thrilled—to make your acquaintance."

"It's nice to meet you, too," Ron stammered. The whole situation was getting too formal. He needed Marvin to relax, or he was going to make a fool of himself.

"We should get started!" he squeaked out. "My mum says 'first things first,' so I guess we'll start with the Headmaster's office," he gushed. "That's it there, and there's the entranceway, and that's the Headmaster's gargoyle. It guards the entrance."

Marvin stared at him blankly.

"Guess you covered that one, didn't you?" Ron laughed nervously. "Of course you did. Well, I guess it's onto the main staircase then."

Ron spun on his heel and marched down the hall, entirely too aware of the quiet boy at his back. How he wished he would say something! It was like he was a ghost, or some sort of creepy stalker. He wouldn't look around at anything, either. He just followed, one, two steps behind, staring at the stone floor.

Ron groaned. How come he had to get the transfer student who didn't want to transfer? Dumbledore had sidled him a doom-and-gloom. Maybe he was a Durmstang transfer that had been suspended. He had probably been practicing the Unforgivables on the staff members!

Alright, so maybe he was stretching things a bit, but Marvin was creepy. It would have been much easier to see to the needs of a Beauxbaton transfer. Damn his luck. He was supposed to be making the boy feel welcome, but he hadn't the slightest idea about how to go about that task. It was like trying to solve a riddle. He hated riddles!

"Fun fact about the castle…" He winced—it sounded lame, even to his own ears. "The portraits and the stairs move here. But don't worry. It's relatively safe, and you'll catch on pretty quick. The main staircase is just through here."

Marvin stepped through the archway and looked up-into a maze of stairs.  
There was step upon step, row upon row, and flight upon flight of stairs. He watched on as the staircases flexed and coiled together. It was like an intricate dance, and he was afraid that if he spoke the kaleidoscope above him would shatter.

Ron smiled in understanding. His reaction first year had been much the same.

"Up that staircase and to the right is the Divination classroom," he said, pointing towards the north tower. "But, be warned: it's at the top of 1,123 steps, one rickety ladder, and a trap door."

"And there's the entrance to the Dungeons." Ron reached over the banister to point at the floor below.

Marvin's reaction was almost visceral. Staring at the lichen-encrusted doorway, he felt his stomach churn as a wave of nostalgia rocked his body. "That's where the Slytherin common room is."

Ron turned to look at him. "Yep. That's also where we have our Potions classroom. With any luck, you won't need to go to the former, and you can limit your time in the latter," he said with a conspiratorial wink. "Snape can be a right menace."

"Snape?" Marvin's eyebrows rose in question. "Sounds like some sort of snap-dragon?" he muttered under his breath.

"Snape? A snap-dragon!" Ron guffawed. "That's a first! Wait 'till I tell Harry that one. No one's ever called the 'Great Bat' a 'snap-dragon.' I'll have to add that one to the list." He laughed again. " Snape, the Snap-dragon Potions Master, teaching us Defense Against the Dark Arts." He dabbed at the tears in his eyes.

"You know Marvin, for a scary guy, you're not half-bad." He gave Marvin a thumbs-up, patting him on the shoulder. "We might even make it through this tour alright."

"Well, well, well." A high-pitched croon broke over their conversation. "If it isn't the resident Weasel?" A shock of blonde hair materialized out of the depths and sauntered up beside them.

"Malfoy," Ron growled.

"And what do we have here? A new student?"

Malfoy extended a long, refined, very pale digit towards the dark boy. "Why, I'd just love to make his acquaintance," he said with a smile. "We wouldn't want him hanging around the wrong sorts of wizards now, would we, Weasel?"

Ron closed his eyes tight, his fists clenching at his sides. He hated it when Malfoy used that voice. It was just so presumptuous! He waltzed around as if the whole world was created to cater to his whims. It was just like that time on the train ride with Harry!

He wasn't going to stand by and watch it happen again!

He just had to stop Malfoy from getting close to Marvin. The thought of them together filled him with dread. Hopefully, Malfoy would manage to be a big enough prat so that he wouldn't have to worry about it.

…..

"Draco Malfoy." The blonde Slytherin drawled. "You may have heard of me or my family."

"Marvin Grey."

Draco felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise up at the other boy's voice. There was something disconcertingly familiar about him. Draco watched with growing apprehension as the boy offered up his hand in return.

The moment Marvin's skin touched Draco's own, liquid fire shot through his arm. Draco gasped, clutching his left arm frantically as if burned. The Mark throbbed beneath his school robes.

"That's quite an unusual reaction for someone you just met," Marvin intoned. "Hardly proper behavior for a snake."

Draco sputtered back. "And what would you know about that?"

"More than you, apparently," Marvin laughed. "Did the sorting hat make a mistake, I wonder?"

"I don't know where you get off knowing _that_ about our school." Draco said narrowing his eyes at the boy. "But, _at_ _this school_, there are certain students at the top. You would do well to place yourself among them."

Marvin stared down with same look a hawk might give a rodent. "I thank you for your _advice_. I shall consider it- lightly."

"By all means," Draco sneered, "follow your 'esteemed judgement.' We'll see where it leads you." With that, he spun on his heels and retreated into the shadows.

Ron let out a whoop of triumph. "Ha! Ha! You sure showed Ferret-face!" He crowed, pumping his fist into the air. "He practically pissed himself to get away!"

"Weasley. Do not mistake my intentions. That was in no way some misguided attempt to champion a Gryffindor over a Slytherin." His voice grew dark and distant. "But to establish a proper order: _I_ was never meant to _follow a Malfoy_, the _Malfoys_ were meant to _follow me_."

Ron's mouth dropped open slightly and he turned to him with a strange look in his eye. "Marvin man," he clapped the boy on the shoulder, "I take back what I said earlier: sometimes you really _are_ scary."

Marvin shook his head. There was something about the encounter with Malfoy that left him feeling dazed. Everything felt very far away. He kept imagining the pained expression on Draco's face, and, for some reason, that made him happy. He rubbed at his temples. It just didn't make any sense.

He sighed. Ron was speaking to him again. "…hink, it's good for someone to put Malfoy in his place. He's had it coming for a long time." He punctuated his words with a punch. "Anyway, you shouldn't let that prick worry you, we've got dinner to get to!" Ron flashed him a grin. "Let's hear it for you first Hogwarts Sorting!" He yelled and raced down to the first floor.

Marvin stopped at the boy's words. He was going to be Sorted! Again! How annoying! It was just one big inconvenience after the next. He'd have to remember to _thank_ Dumbledore the next time they met.

They paused just outside the double-doors. Weasley had waited for him and was twitching with excitement. "Alright now Marvin," he said hopping from one side to the next, "when we go in there'll be four tables—one for each house. I know you don't have one yet, but you'll sit with me."

"I can't wait for you to meet everyone. Hermione—she's great. She's muggle-born and just about the smartest witch you'll ever meet. Next year, just you wait, she's going to be Head Girl." Ron gave a giant push and opened the doors. "And Harry," he said walking into the Great Hall, "he's the boy-who-lived. And he's going to—" But, Marvin could no longer hear him as the conversation was swallowed up in the din Great Hall.

Animated chatter filled the room, as students of all houses found their way to their seats. Ron shuffled over to the Gryffindor table, dragging Marvin along behind him.

"Harry!" He yelled out over the noise. "Where's Hermione? There's someone I want you to meet! "

…


	5. Chapter 5

…

A familiar head of black hair popped up among the sea of red and gold. "Hermione's on her way down. She'll be here in a minute." He turned his green eyes to the two boys as they approached. "Who's the new guy?"

"Marvin. He's a transfer. Dumbledore asked me to show him around."

"Alright Ron!" He said clapping the other boy on the shoulder. Ron puffed up and stuck out his chest. Harry laughed. "Don't tell me your letting it go to your head. I'm not sure I know any spells for that."

"Hardy har har," Ron huffed. "This coming from the boy who signed fan mail with Professor Lockhart. Rich!"

Harry laughed harder. Ron never really knew how funny he was. He always managed to turn his expressions into something hilarious—whether it be a flustered Mrs. Weasley or a consternated Snape.

"My name's Harry," he said turning to the other boy. "Ron says your name's Marvin. It's nice to meet you."

Marvin looked to the other boy. He tried not to stare, but all he could see was that scar. He felt a need to rip it from the boy's face. Marvin shook himself. That was no way to think about someone he had just met!

"It's nice to make your acquaintance as well." He said, pointedly ignoring the inquisitiveness he found in the other boy's green eyes.

"You look vaguely familiar," the black-haired boy said. "Are you sure we haven't met before?"

"I think I would have remembered _that_," he muttered darkly pointing to the boy's head.

"I'll take that as a 'no,' then. I guess it's just a bad case of deja-vu." Harry laughed weakly and rubbed at his scar. "Anyway, it looks like dinner's about to start, so why don't you sit down here."

Marvin inclined his head, taking the seat to Harry's left. He was about to sit down when a blur of grey ran past behind him.

"Whoa, Hermione!" Ron hollered as she slid into her seat. "What took you so long? You were almost late!"

"Yeah, that's not like you at all." Harry chimed in.

"Dumbledore had something he wanted to talk to me about," she answered in a huff. "So even if I had been late, I would've had a decent excuse."

"Oh man!" Ron laughed around his kidney and pie, "Would you listen to that? It sounds like she's already been promoted to Head Girl!"

"Ron, you know it's not like that," she said taking a sip of her pumpkin juice. "Dumbledore just wanted me to look into something, that's all."

"Probably some sort of research!" Ron looked to Harry with a snort.

"As a matter of fact, Ron_ald_," she said, stressing the last syllable of his name, "it is research."

"What'd I tell you, Harry- she practically lives at the library!"

Hermione rolled her eyes at Ron's predictable one-liners. They were always the same! She tried her best to just ignore his comments.

"What kind of research?" The question came so low and quiet from her elbow that for a scarce second she thought she'd imagined it.

She snapped her head to her right. Beside her sat a boy. Boy- or man? Her mind settled on something in-between. He had black hair and pale skin. His face was sharp with high cheekbones. She was sure she hadn't seen him before.

"I don't believe we've met," she said a note of caution creeping into her voice. There was a strange light that glittered in his black eyes that told Hermione she needed to be careful.

"I'm Marvin Grey."

"Hermione Granger," she answered reaching forward towards his outstretched palm. His grip was surprisingly strong. Hermione wasn't sure if she should feel assured or repelled.

"What was that you were saying about research?"

"I'm—uh—" a look of consternation came over her face. "I guess I'm not really allowed to say. I thought it was just us three, you know—Harry, Ron, and me." Hermione blushed.

"I see."

Harry sniggered at his friend's reaction, alerting Ron to the demonstration. Ron watched on with an odd look, finally tapping his sister on the shoulder.

"What?" she hissed as Ron pointed towards the pair. "Of course she still likes you," she said rolling her eyes. "They're just discussing research."

"Aw come on, Ginny…"

Ginny rolled her eyes and kicked out from under the table.

Hermione yelped. "Ginny!" She said, rubbing her abused shin. She shot her friend a confused look. What had gotten into the girl?

The youngest witch of the Weasley clan met her look with a glare of her own. "Hey, what about, R—O—N," she mouthed the letters to her friend, indicating where her brother sat with a jerk of her thumb.

Hermione sent her a quizzical look. "This is research," she whispered back.

Ginny turned back to her brother, crossing her arms at her chest with a clear I-told-you-so look to her face. Ron grinned back with a shrug. If Ginny wasn't worried, then neither would he. She would look out for him.

"Students, students." Dumbledore chose that moment to chime in. "Might I have your attention for a brief moment?" He rapped a long-handled knife against his goblet. "I am sure you have all noticed a new face among us," he said with a nod towards the Gryffindor table. "He is a transfer student. Marvin, if you would come forward. It is time for you to be Sorted."

Gasps of surprise and whispers of delight rippled through the onlooking crowd. Some of the more vocal students went so far as to call out, trying to cajole Marvin into their house. Even the House Ghosts joined in:  
"This way! Ravenclaw for ravenous intellect!"  
"Hufflepuff for Happiness!"  
"Hufflepuff is for Pufflehuff and Pixie Dust! You want Gryffindor, where the 'G' stands for great!"

At the last statement, the entire Gryffindor table burst into a happy laughter. Even Hermione had broken into a light chuckle. What had come over everyone?

Hermione reined in her laughter at the look of confusion on the new boy's face. "We'll talk about research some other time. You have an appointment with a Sorting Hat."

The dark boy growled, muttering to himself. This was not the Sorting Ceremony of his time! He sat down straight-backed on the stool before him, placing the worn fabric over his eyes. It started to pour its words into his ear and the rest of the Great Hall was lost to its siren song. He only had a mind for the Hat and its suggestions, and as such, he missed the searching looks that the Gryffindor girl sent his way and Ginny's.

…..


	6. Chapter 6

Marvin sat at his new table and looked out upon his new housemates in disbelief. How had it come to this? He wondered incredulously tugging at the scarf around his neck. It felt foreign and strange upon his skin. He could swear his skin had started to chafe. He fingered its unfamiliar threads and reflected on all the events that had brought him this far.

...........................................................................

He remembered sitting on the stool. He remembered sitting on the stool and feeling somewhat unnerved to be the sole focus of so many hundred pairs of eyes. He slipped the Sorting Hat over his head with a sigh of relief. Its dark brim dipped well below his line of sight and hid him from their inquisitive stares. The worn edges tickled his brow as the Hat began to speak.

"You again." The Hat's timeless voice rasped in his ear. "This is an unusual turn of events."

"Yes indeed." Marvin said a note of uncertainty in his voice. He wasn't really sure of how to respond, and he shifted in his seat. "If it's all the same to you," he said clearing his throat, "I'd prefer to be sorted into Slytherin."

The Hat paused for a moment as if considering the boy's request. "Slytherin, hmm..." It sifted through his mind as though a penseive. "You would do well there, just as you always have. Your desire to please runs deep, and your sense of ambition is matched by few I have ever seen. The Potter boy comes close though..."

The voice trailed off into silence with a sigh. Minutes ticked by without another word. Marvin was half-convinced that the decrepit article had fallen asleep where it lay on his head. He grew uneasy at the Hat's silence, a tension building along his spine. When it finally spoke again, he jumped in his seat.

"But," the Hat's whisper resounded in his mind, "there is something more to you than your ambitions. There is something new within you, something that supercedes your lust for power."

"What do you mean?"

"You tell me." The Hat asked or rather demanded in return. "What do you desire? What is it you want more than anything else in the world?"

Marvin answered without a moment's hesitation. "Power."

"Wrong." The Hat fired back. "That is what you wanted from _before. _I am asking about _now._"

Marvin stilled. He had absolutely no idea how to answer the ancient relic. The hat smirked across his forehead in a long, wide arc of musty fabric.

"Knowledge." It answered succinctly. "You want knowledge."

"Knowledge?" He spat back. "Knowledge of what?" He crinkled his brow deep in thought and poured over the Hat's strange words. "Knowledge..." his voice rose in time with his revelation, "knowledge of self. Knowledge of my past."

"Exactly, my boy, exactly." The Hat laughed eerily, its frayed edges undulating against his skull. He shuddered at the unusual sensation, an involuntary shiver running down his spine. "That is why I have decided to place you among the knowledge seekers. You, my dear boy, are now and forever a-- RAVENCLAW."

The Hat rang its proclamation for all to hear, and the Great Hall erupted into a fanfare of applause and cheers-- although none quite so loud as the blue and gold bedecked Ravens.

Marvin met the cacophony of sound with a blank look as if in a daze. He returned Professor Flitwick's welcoming handshake with ghost-like hands, his words of congratulations washing over him in an indistinguishable wave. He must have replied with something appropriate, as the Professor clapped him on the shoulder and directed him to his new seat.

And _that_ was how he found himself at the Ravenclaw table present tugging listlessly at the ends of his new scarf, listening to Morag McDougal and Terry Boot discuss the differences between Flitterbloom and Devil's Snare. McDougal argued that the two were virtually the same plant, while Boot was of the opinion that the violent nature of Devil's Snare fundamentally altered the potion base. The two boys seemed content to keep the argument between them, just as Marvin was content to continue his silent observation. If he really was to fit in among the Ravens, he needed to know how to act like one, and the best way to do that, he figured, was to monitor his tablemates from afar.

It had already become painstakingly clear to him that guile and deceit were two unknown entities within the Ravenclaw family. Working outside the confines of ulterior motives and power plays was going to take some getting used to. That said, however, he anticipated little trouble in rising to the top. As an envoy of silver and green, he was sure of his success. He was like the proverbial wolf in sheep's clothing, or, as he liked to think of it, the cobra with the skin of a blue-jay. In this house, he would get the information Dumbledore wanted, and the skills and the tools he needed to return to the past. Marvin smirked into his plate, endless possibilities swimming behind his dark eyes. Dumbledore may have snatched him from everything he knew, coerced him into an identity he hadn't wanted, and sorted him into a new house, but he would spring back, for he was nothing if not resilient.

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A.N. And there we have it. Marvin has a new House. Did it meet with your expectations, or were you expecting Marvin to be placed somewhere else? How many of you would have flayed me alive if I had put our favorite dark hero in Hufflepuff?

Man, I'd love to see someone come up with a plausible reason for Marvin to get sorted into Hufflepuff-- that would be worth 10,000 galleons in my book. ;)

Let me know your thoughts as we have a dozy of a next chapter!


	7. Chapter 7

As dinner came to a close, Marvin scraped the rest of his food to one side of his plate. He hadn't eaten much, but considering the fact that he had eaten dinner just prior to his half-century leap, he didn't expect much either. He was picking at the vegetables on his plate when a loud voice came up from behind him.

"For a boy your age, you really should eat more." He said woefully unaware of how closely he came to mirroring the statements of the Weasley mother hen.

"What do you want, Weasley?"

"To finish your tour. I still need to show you the Ravenclaw common room and make sure you're all settled in for the night. There's no sleeping in a Hogwarts hallway for my charge." He said reaching over Marvin to spear the last of his carrots. He popped them into his mouth with a satisfying smack of his lips.

Marvin watched on with a look of shock. Weasley invaded his space and stolen the rest of his dinner! He had no sense for personal space or table manners. Marvin's surprise must have shown on his face for Ron had the grace to look chagrined.

"Sorry about that. I got a lot of brothers, so you might as well get used to it. Rule #1 at the Weasley house: you snooze, you lose. Now come on!" He said, tugging at the darker boy's elbow. "It's time to get a move on!"

Marvin rose slowly with dignity, or with as much dignity as he could manage with a red and gold grindylow attached to his arm. He frowned at the Weasley boy, but was promptly ignored.

"You should've seen the Sorting from our side!" Ron burst out waving his arms about wildly. "It was nerve-wracking, like waiting for the World Cup!" As he gushed, his voice echoed against the walls of the main stairwell. "We couldn't hear what the Hat was saying to you, and it took an eternity to decide!" He once again emphasized his point with a wide swing of his arms, which, Marvin realized, the boy was prone to when either happy or excited or both. It was as if the boy were like some over-grown, over-excited Cornish pixie-- a Cornish pixie without any sense for his surroundings. With all the stairs they were traversing and all the wild hand gestures Ron was making, Marvin was surprised the boy could make it up even one step, let alone the five floors they were climbing. At any moment, he wholly expected to see Ron plummet to his doom in a blaze of gesticulating glory. His lips twitched at the thought. Ron, he mused, was certainly an _interesting_ character.

The boy in question beside him rambled on unaware, blithely continuing on with his Sorting Hat commentary. "From the very beginning, we ruled out Hufflepuff." He explained as they rounded a corner out onto the fifth floor. "We weren't sure about the rest, but we had hoped for Gryffi..." He paused, his feet halted abruptly. Before them stretched a towering archway with gold and blue filigree laid into each post. On either side carved in fine relief, an eagle burst forth on majestic wings with sapphires and cobalt winking from the folds in their feathers. In their talons they clutched a bright blue door that glowed ethereal in their grasp, which held the head of an eagle at its center. It was this eagle that served as gate-keeper and guardian for the Ravenclaw common room, and was even now monitoring their movements with a knowing look in its eyes.

"Our newest fledgling." It snapped as they approached. "Know this young man: the gate here is shut to those who cannot demonstrate adequate knowledge."

Ron turned to Marvin with a terse whisper. "That means you gotta answer a question."

"Any question?" He shot back.

"Any question uttered from my beak."

"Of course, my dear bird. As you wish." Marvin saluted the bird with a hand to his chest and dropped to a knee. "I would, however, ask for your grace long enough to introduce myself. I am Marvin Grey, and I pray you remember that name."

"Why, pray tell, would I do that?"

"Because," Marvin expounded with a dangerous lilt to his voice, "I will have been the first Ravenclaw in history to enter your common room under the obtuse question of 'why?'"

The knocker's bill fell open. "You cheat!" It squawked. "That wasn't _the _question; it was _a _question-- which you lead me into with your trickery and deceit!"

"You might have thought of that before you asked an asinine question!" Marvin said with a dark chuckle.

The eagle screeched in protest, but in the end was unable to stop the power of the doors. The magic which bound him to his post had recognized the question and accepted its answer, and was even now unraveling on squeaky hinges.

"Mark my words, mark my words!" It said thrashing against its confines. "This is a house of knowledge Marvin Grey! I will remember your travesty against me and my kind! You'll rue the day you ever---" Its words became muffled as the doors brushed up against the castle wall.

Marvin merely laughed in response as he traipsed through the golden archway. He yelled back to a befuddled Weasley. "Goodnight Weasley! I will see you tomorrow for my very first very Ravenclaw day."

Ron blinked in response the doors shutting in his face with a loud bang. "Blimey." He marveled aloud. "If that wasn't the greatest bit of codswallop I've ever seen. A far cry from Ravenclaw that one is, I swear!" Ron gave a shake of his head in disbelief. He picked his way back down the long winding staircase, but as he made his retreat he could help but wonder about tomorrow. Things would certainly prove interesting with Marvin around!

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A.N. Hahaha. Marvin's already gotten into a world of trouble. Is there anyone besides me that thinks perhaps he has bitten off more than he can chew? We'll just have to see what the future hold for our budding Dark Lord. Hahaha. Marvin- watch out!!

And for my reviewers:

To Ming is random: First time reviewer! Hello, welcome aboard and I hope you are still with me! I hope to put Tom in many, many more interesting scenarios so hang on! It's going to be a bumpy ride!

To LDeetz: Hello again. :) I love being able to say that. ;) As you can see, Hermione didn't forget about the time-- she was waylaid by Dumbledore with plans for research. What type of research you ask? Well-- that just might be the crux of this story so stay tuned to find out. ;)

To Opal Knight: Again, I love your reviews-- like a cool drink on a hot summer's day. How did you like Marvin's first encounter with Hermione? Did it live up to your expectations? I have some rather interesting interactions between them planned for the next coming chapters!! It should prove to be quite the read. (I hope!)

To Flamelm: Hehe. Sorry that my chapters are short sometimes. Blush. I find I write best with little scenelettes as you will. For the most part, I try to get my chapters over 1,000 words, but sometimes they just cut out-- poof-- end. Hahaha. This chapter is a little longer, and I anticipate the following chapter to be even longer still-- with a sprinkling of Hermione thrown into the mix! Anyway, let me know what you think. Your consistent reviews are like a balm to the heart. :)


	8. Chapter 8

October 5, 1996, dawned his first day as a Ravenclaw. He woke with a start, the cold October air biting into his skin. Goose pimples broke over his exposed skin, all along his arms and chest. He knew last night that going to bed in nothing but knickers would result in a morning similar to this, but he had little choice. Dumbledore in all his infinite, time-turning wisdom had neglected to fill even his most basic needs. He was without clothes and without books. In fact, it was vaguely reminiscent of another time and another place; he just couldn't remember the details.

Damn Dumbledore! He could pluck a student from thin air, but, see to a student's general wellbeing?! Perish the thought!

Infinite, time-turning wisdom indeed, he thought as he ruthlessly flung the sheets to the side. He slithered down his four-poster bed, his feet touching the cold castle floor in well-practiced silence. He shivered in his near-nakedness, quickly shrugging into his clothes and his robe from the day before. And, with a whirl of black fabric, he was gone.

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The library was empty and hollowed as he strode in. This early in the morning, he expected it to be so, but he was, nevertheless, pleased to find it that way. There was something about the silence in a library that stilled him somehow, so in keeping with that quiet atmosphere, he padded over to the auxiliary reference section. There, he easily found a copy of _Advanced Potion Making _and _Advanced Rune Translation, _and went on to peruse the Defense section.

Snape, it appeared, had assigned them a lot of reading for his debut as a Defense instructor. On his list there were seven required texts and more than twenty recommended readings. He got them all, and soon _Confronting the Faceless, A Light Against the Dark, and Defeating Dark Marks and Dark Designs _perched at the top of his precarious stack. He frowned at some of the more obvious titles. If his choice in reading material was anything to go by, Marvin harbored some serious doubts about this Professor Snape. He was, most likely, less experienced than more, and Gryffindor to boot!

Marvin huffed in disdain and tossed the last of his texts on the top of his pile. As he passed the last atrium before Madame Pince's desk, he caught sight of a halo of brown hair, streaked with dawn's pale light. She sat before the large bay window, ensconced behind a tower of books.

"If it isn't the Gryffindor girl." He purred, as the mousy haired girl jumped up in her seat.

"My name's Hermione." She shifted her arms so that they hung over her work, a note of suspicion creeping into her voice. "What are you doing here so early?"

"I could ask the same of you." Marvin matched the guiless look in her deep brown doe eyes with a malevolent light of his own. "That certainly is an _unusual _taste in reading materials."

"Just a bit of light reading." She said, affecting a light shrug. "I see that you are making off with all the sixth year textbooks... is there any particular reason as to why you don't have your own?"

"They're all in the 1950's." He responded in a deadpan voice.

The brown haired girl chuckled. "Is that so?"

He watched on in morbid fascination, with daggers in his smile. "But of course. Do you think I would lie to you?"

Her laughter dwindled into silence, and the girl sank into her chair. She did not seem entire comfortable with the strange new direction the conversation had taken, although he would contend that she had willingly walked into that one.

"But I didn't--"

"Of course not. You would never intend it that way." He smiled at her with all the reassurance of a Cheshire cat. "On that note, however, I'm afraid I must take my leave of you. I have quite a few more things to accomplish, and I would hate to further impose upon you and your _light reading_." He sank back into the shadow of the shelves, vanishing from her little alcove without a trace.

Hermione stared hard at the boy's spot long after he left, her eyes riveted and a look of deep concentration on her brow. That dark boy, she decided, was a strange bird, and not one she would let go unmonitored for any length of time. She packed up her bag and her 'texts' and traced his steps, ever mindful of the first period bell.

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Marvin's first class, Charms, came and went without trouble. He was surprised at how easily he was able to learn without the constant threat of sabotage or power struggles. It certainly made school easy. In the Ravenclaw house, he needed only compete on a strict academic level, and, despite all rumors and speculations that stated otherwise, he was finding his new housemates inherent intellect lacking in that regard.

He had even managed to receive house points for his efforts this morning. Granted Professor Flitwick was rather partial to members of his own house, he had been able to answer a question that his fellow eagles had not.

"That said, if we integrate a swish and flick into the framework of the spell itself, you are left with what?"

All the other students were silent, casting their gazes about the room as if afraid to look the older man in the eye. He raised his hand.

"Yes, you, Mr. Grey."

His quiet tones permeated the room. "If a swish and flick is integrated into the base framework of the spell itself, it is possible to attach a charm to the very spell itself."

"Very good, Mr. Grey. 20 points to Ravenclaw for that exemplary response." The professor beamed. "It means very simply class that the structure of a spell can be spelled. A classic example of this is speed. With a well placed swish and flick you can alternately accelerate or decelerate your spell..."

Marvin smirked into his sleeve as the old man continued on with his lecture. Of course it had been the secret Slytherin that managed to score house points for an entirely different team. He wondered what any one of them would say if they knew he were to seriously start to consider sabotaging their own efforts in favor of his ex-house. It could prove to be entertaining. He would have to keep it in mind for another day as it was time for his second class of the day.

He was looking forward to Defense with the Snap-Dragon with an excitement he normally reserved for a particularly well designed curse or an especially effective poison.

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A.N. I must say I love writing scenes with both Hermione and Marvin in them. They are just so... volatile together! Watch out!

So, here we have it. Marvin has finally started to go to school. I will say that this year's program appears to be quite challenging, and I know our favorite foursome will have an interesting time of it to say the least.

At any rate, let me know what you think, and I hope to see you again soon.

To my reviews from last chapter:

To Ming is Random: Thanks. I am glad you liked the entrance to the Ravenclaw common room. I really struggled with the idea for a bit. I wasn't entirely sure whether or not to put it in or leave it out. Your words definitely make me happy that I kept it in! Rest assured that isn't the last we've heard from that door!

To babe-chan: Welcome to A Dark Boy Named Marvin! I am glad to hear you are enjoying it so far. I can say that it will get even crazier from here on out, so stay tuned!

To flamelm: Of course! I agree. I really don't feel there is any real way to take the snake from the Riddle or the Riddle from the snake. He will just have to be really Slytherin from here on out! Yay! Also, as for your comment about his comment about Ron, I went and re-read the chapter, and I agree. I don't know what I was thinking when I wrote that-- but I will erase/ change it to something more suitably Marvin. :) Good eyes.

To Risottonocheese: A great welcome to you as well! :) I am glad you like the idea of Marvin coming to the future. I haven't seen a whole lot of fics with this idea, so I decided I wanted to try it. As for the pace of the story, I will try to keep it moving forward and interesting at the same time. I haven't quite got the hang of it yet, but I will do my best. :) (This may mean going back and reworking the first few chapters, but I think I might wait to do that until I have more of the entire story written.) Again, thanks for your review.

To Frozen Pixie: Hello again. :) So how is Marvin holding up among the blue and gold? He seems to be holding his own. :) I am glad you liked our friendly neighborhood red and gold grindylow. Ron is quite a character-- and you will more interactions between him and Marvin. :) Thanks for your words. I look forward to hearing from you soon.

P.S. For those of you who do review, would you prefer that I post the response at the end of a chapter, or would you prefer that I send you a response via your fanfic account? Comments, questions, concerns-- thoughts in general? :)

Alright, until Friday! :)


	9. Chapter 9

The Defense doors opened with a bang in a whirlwind of black. A tall, dark, sallow-skinned man stalked his way to the front of the class. He was dressed in an old, styled robe of midnight black with a many-clasped frock that wound up his neck like a vice. Power radiated off his frame in palpable waves, quelling even the most out-spoken student into a reserved silence.

Marvin's eyebrows shot up in response. The Snape Snap-dragon was not as tame a beast as he originally thought. The man knew how to make an entrance, and, do it with style.

"Today," his deep tenor permeated the room, "you are here to _attempt_ to improve your shield spells. The emphasis on the word attempt is intentional as some of you will inevitably fail."

He sneered at the wayward Gryffindors, the disgust on his face clearly showing what he thought of their capabilities in that regard.

"This class will be composed of a series of mini-duels, the object of which is to disarm your opponent from under a shield spell. These mini-duels will build upon one another, forming the base for your mid-term and final duel evaluations. I suggest you start trying to do well _now._

Idiocy will not be tolerated, and foolishness will find you rendered unconscious either by my hand or that of your peers. Any coursework you miss during an extended stay in Madame Pomfrey's care will not be excused, and you will not be able to make it up. Defense Against the Dark Arts is learnable through experience only, so any extended absences in this class and you will receive a zero."

He fixed each and every one of them with his foreboding gaze, his eyes piercing every one of them to the quick.

"You will spend the next two hours examining the strengths and weaknesses of your shield charms by alternating between casting and shielding with your partner. You are prohibited from using any spells that cause bodily harm or are in any other way similarly incapacitating. I will not, at this time, ennumerate the consequences for those foolish enough to break this rule, but know that they are sufficiently _harsh_.

Have I made myself clear?"

Clear as dwaven-mined crystal. Marvin gave a slight nod of his head. He was definitely looking forward to see how this class would progress.

For his first duel, he was paired with Terry Boot and Mandy Brauklehurst, as they rotated through shielding and disarming their opponent. The first round was between Boot and Brauklehurst, and ended when Brauklehurst finally managed to strike at one of Boot's weak points. As Brauklehurst won, it was her turn to shield with Marvin as a opponent, casting against her. He made quick work of her shield with a well placed Breaking Charm, and the match ended. For the next duel, where he shielded against Boot, he soon found the boy could hardly match him for strength, and so, the better part of an hour slipped away with neither of the two Ravenclaws able to best his shield. In fact, he found himself growing bored in the face of their glaring ineptitude. Fortunately for him, Snape stepped in to save him from this continued ignominy.

"Mr. Grey, Mr. Weasley," his voice boomed out over the dueling pairs, "switch partners."

Marvin deconstructed his shield and took up his new position across the class. He now faced 11 inches of hollywood and pheonix feather, a wand that he would have been surpised to know was strikingly similar to his own. Behind this wand, a pair of green eyes regarded him with a determination he hadn't seen in any of the other students' eyes. A dangerous thrill filled him-- almost as if he had been ordained to fight this boy.

"Potter." He gave a curt nod of his head.

"Grey." He bowed stiffly back, and their duel was underway.

He spread out his magic like fingers in a tentative caress, testing the smaller boy's strength, and smiled at the raw power reflected there. The boy, this Harry Potter, was strong, very strong.

A maniacle glint lit his eye, and that was all the warning that Potter had before waves of magic began to crash down upon him. A torrential downpour burst forth from Marvin's wand as he fired spell after spell at the boy's shields searching for a viable weak spot. Magic flooded the space, surging angrily against the walls, but still they held strong. A veritable fortress.

He paused his onslaught and the wild magic dissipated useless into the ground. He began to circle his prey. The dark-haired boy followed his movements with a wary eye, suspicious of the sudden lull. From the defiant set to his stance, Marvin could tell that Harry was far from fatigued, his shields far from breaking. It was obvious he was going to need a new tactic, and, a cunning one at that. Marvin smirked. Fortunately, he possessed that ruthless understanding in spades.

He stopped in front of the boy, and raised his arms in the beginnings of his most complicated charms. The green eyes of his opponent followed his wand movements with impossible speed, furiously adapting his shields to match and absorp each and every new modification.

Marvin continued his chant unfazed. Magic threads wove around him, circling in a nebulous web. Ancient runes sprung forth from the mass, seeping into the walls and floor around them. Then, all at once, the room shifted, and the walls cut in two, jumping and sliding along stationary posts. The fabric of the castle twisted to the dark boy's magic, and yet, still the other boy remained unphased.

Marvin directed his wand at the floor beneath them, the wood creaking and groaning under his command. It warped and bent and bubbled about, threatening even his own precarious balance. Then, all of a sudden, it snaked out from beneath him, in a giant ripple towards the feet of the boy before him. And that was when the dark-haired boy's attention wavered.

He had him now.

With nary a moment's hesistation, he struck out with his magic, raising the chair at the other boy's back, and sent it careening into the side of his face. The young boy staggered under its weight, sinking to the ground, his shield flickering in and out with his shock. Marvin sezed the exact moment and relieved the other boy of his wand with a well placed _expelliarmus_ and brought it to rest lightly in the palm of his hand.

The duel was over. He had won.

A smattering of applause broke out across the classroom at Marvin's belated realization. While the Potter boy did not look too distraught over his untimely loss, the rest of the class appeared to be in shock. It seemed that no one had expected him to win. Marvin nearly scoffed at their unforgiving expectations. If he were to go by their traumatized responses, one would think that he had just brought down the very savior of the Wizarding world, and he knew that Harry was not that special!

It was Profesor Snape's voice that finally broke through the awkward silence that held the room in its stifling grasp. "20 points, Mr. Grey, for that rather _refreshing_ display of dueling tactics." His obsidian orbs narrowed ever so slightly at his newest charge before he turned to address the room at large. "In a duel to the death, nothing is off-limits. Anything and everything is fair game, and even something as mundane as one surroundings can be molded into a weapon. You would do well to remember this."

"Now then," he cleared his throat hoping to drag this moment out for all eternity. "Now that the infamous Potter has been _defeated_," he took certain pleasure in being able to utter those words, "we will need someone to take his place." He swept his eyes out into the trembling crowd of Gryffindors. "Is there any among you who would dare to take his place?"

One hand rose, unwavering, from among the masses.

"Ah yes, a staunch and stalwart companion," he said, a terrible smile lighting his features from below, "I would expect nothing less." He gestured to the space Harry had occupied merely a moment ago. "Ms. Granger, if you would please."

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A.N. Hot dog! I think I loved this chapter! I have always wanted Tom and Harry to duel!! HAHA!! So much fun! What did you think? Did you enjoy that as much as I did?

To my reviewers: I have decided I like the idea of posting at the bottom of chapters- makes it easier for me to remember if I've responded to your review or not... wouldn't want to flood your inboxx with a bazillion review responses. :) However, if you would prefer that I email via , let me know, and I will gladly do so.

To Red Fox Rose: Thank and welcome to the madness that is A Dark Boy! I am glad to hear you have been enjoying it so far. What did you think of the new chapter? Pretty intense, right? :) I can't answer all your questions (as that would be giving away too much of the plot) but I can say that as I love Hermione and Tom together-- I am going to endeavor to get them together and keep 'em that way. :) As for Dumbledore's spell-- well, that will just have to wait for later chapters! But, good eyes. That will come back up!

To bebechan: Hehehe. Well, Marvin and Hermione are in the same class together-- and soon to be in the same duel together! What do you think? It's going to be a spicy one for sure!!!!

To Fragorl: Also welcome!! I am glad you love the story. I am not quite sure I am worthy of your worship, but I will happily accept your love. I have really enjoyed writing this story, and I have a lot planned for our favorite pair. I am so glad to hear you think my piece is brilliant. I have been striving to really make it a one of a kind! We will see how successful that is with the next few chapters. Anyways, I hope you stick with me, and I hope to hear from you soon. :)


	10. Chapter 10

Hermione took up the spot that Harry had occupied just moments before, as Marvin drew up his shields around him.

"Mr. Grey, you played the role of caster against Harry, so I'll ask you to play the role of shielder next. Ms. Granger, you will be the caster."

Hermione's head barely dipped in response to the Professor's words, so intent was she in her focus. She closed her eyes and raised her wand into the air. As she whispered, a low hum broke out across the classroom, filling the air with its heavy thrum. Marvin felt the vibration pulse along his shield before it modulated into a higher tone. It beat against his defenses, rising higher and higher, flying about the scales in a frantic pitch. Something clashed against his magical nodes, filling the air with a cacophony of sounds.

Then, all of a sudden, the terrible keening stopped. He could still make out a muffled hum in the background, but it had ceased its bone-shattering ascent.

Hermione seemed to sense this too, as her spells began to change shape. She opened her eyes, her brown orbs locking with Marvin's own. With an indistinguishable yell, she let fly one, clean, clear shot straight into his shield. Purple magic crashed and sizzled and lit up the room with a sickening crack, but, his defenses held. He was untouched.

Undismayed, she raised her wand to try again. A shower of blue sparks erupted from her wand and rushed at him en masse. His face broke out into a mad grin. Did the girl honestly think she could overwhelm with this paltry display of power? It was the same tactic she had used but a moment ago!

But, just as the bright blue ball of fire plummeted towards him like some giant, cascading firework, the tiny sparks shot off in all directions. What had been going right suddenly swerved left, and a spell that had been steadily going up, suddenly cut down. They zigzagged every which way, and there was no way to follow them all!

He pushed the rest of his magic into the outer core of his shields, praying that they would hold. But, for as much as he poured into his defense, some of the little buggers wormed their way through. He rolled to his left, in an effort to dodge, but there were too many. They nipped at his face, his robes, and his arms all at once. His wand was ripped from his grasp and winged gently over to his erstwhile opponent.

He was floored. Literally and figuratively. Not only had he been beaten by a girl, he'd been beaten by a _Gryffindor_ girl. His gaze turned cold and calculating as she sauntered over to his prone form.

She crossed her arm over her chest with a formal bow. "Magic guard and keep you."

Marvin reached for his wand and their hands met at the hilt. "And also to you." He responded back. It was proper dueling etiquette, but he hadn't expected her to know it. He narrowed his eyes at the girl as he picked himself up off the floor. "I hope you'll grant me an opportunity to discuss our duel at a later date." He said, brushing the dirt and dust from his robes. "As I found some of your spells rather-- intriguing."

Her eyes lit with an unusual light. The smirk that she had heretofore been holding back, finally carved its way into her face. "I look forward to it." She added in quiet tones as she turned on her heel and walked away.

Professor Snape cleared his throat as a wave of twitters and awed whispers flitted through the crowd. "Intriguing duel indeed." He said with a sniff of disdain. "Ms. Granger, while I'm sure your classmates would love to hear you regale us with tales of your daring adventures, that, I'm afraid will have to wait until another time. For your next class on Wednesday, I expect a full 12 inches on the various methods you could use to improve upon your dueling techniques. This includes, but is not limited to, the hows, whys, and whats of dueling."

"And I would encourage each of you," he added dryly, "to make an effort to stretch the contraption you so unfortunately call a brain." He gave them one long look over his hooked nose. "You are dismissed." He said, as he stormed out of the room in a billow of robes.

Thus, they were left to their own devices. So, as the Gryffindor girl packed up to leave, Marvin sank into the shadows, preparing to follow her to wherever her destination might lead.

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To the library, it seemed, or at least it would have been, had she not stopped mid-flight on a wandering spiral staircase.

"Are you following me?" She turned, her hands rolling to the sides of her hips. Marvin slunk out of his hiding place. He was surprised, to say the least, that this girl had been able to catch him. It usually took someone _extremely paranoid_ to pick up on his steps.

"Perhaps I am, and perhaps I'm not. Our paths could conceivable lie on the same course-- as a matter of coincidence of course." His answer was deliberately evasive.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "If you wanted to talk about our duel, all you would have to do is say so, you know."

That was why he had been following her originally, but now that he was pressed about it, he wasn't so sure he wanted to ask. He didn't want to seem desperate, or worse yet, stupid. Stalking someone for the purpose of information struck him as something more along the lines of what Draco Malfoy might do, and he definitely didn't want to be associated with that. So he seized upon the girl's other odd tendencies: her penchant for reading unusual books in the library at early hours in the morning.

"I wasn't following after you for information about the duel, Granger; I was following after you to ask about the books you were reading in the library this morning. What's a Gryffindor girl like you doing with something like Blood Bonds Through the Ages and Sanguine Magick?"

"You saw?" Her voice came out in an alarmed whisper. "But—wait a minute," realization dawned in her eyes, "you just admitted to following me!"

"And _you_ just admitted to reading books about blood bonds."

Her head shot up as she locked eyes with the boy before her. "I thought I told you before, that it was just a bit of _light reading_."

Marvin merely smiled. "So it has absolutely nothing to do with the research Dumbledore asked you to do?"

"And how, exactly, do you know about that?"

Marvin clicked his tongue disapprovingly. Seriously, the girl compounded her guilt with every new word out of her mouth. If he hadn't been sure before, he certainly was now. The girl herself had single-handedly relieved him of all his doubts!

"You made mention of it at the Sorting Ceremony a few nights back."

"You remember that!"

He let out a bitter laugh. "It's one of the few things I do remember." He muttered darkly, half to himself, and half to the girl in front of him. He crossed his arms over his chest in a defensive stance, and decided to push his luck. "So, are you, or are you not, going to tell me why a girl-- a Gryffindor one at that-- is getting mixed up in as nasty a business as blood bonds?"

"Hmmm... let me see…" her voice trailed off as if she were actually giving thought to Marvin's words."Does that mean I have the option to either tell you or _not_ tell you?"

"But of course." He said, his smile turning feral. "I would never dream of forcing a person to answer against their will."

Hermione answered with a non-committal sound at the back of her throat. She wasn't sure she believed him. "Given my choices, I can say with relative certainty that I don't think I'll be answering your question any time soon." She tipped her head to the side by way of apology, but the inflection in her tone didn't sound particularly grieved. She fixed her eyes on his in an uncompromising stare. "You'll just have to content yourself with that, as it is a matter for Dumbledore and I to address. So, if you'll excuse me, I would like to get back to my work."

Marvin said nothing in response, choosing merely to sweep his arms to the side in an invitation to continue on her way. He watched as her slight form faded into the distance, his sharp gaze lingering long after she had disappeared from view. A quiet seriousness took over his dark countenance. That Hermione girl was proving to be quite an enigma. He would need to use every scrupulous and non-scrupulous tool at his disposal to unravel her secrets.

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A.N. So there's the duel between Hermione and Marvin. And Hermione won! Hot dog! We'll just have to see what type of repercussions that sows for Hermione later on.

To my reviewers: as usual, thank you for your much-appreciated support! I love hearing from you—your input is invaluable to the story, and helps me keep on my toes.

To frozenpixie: I am glad you liked the duel between Harry and Marvin. That's an interesting point you bring up about Harry's and Marvin's wands. That might play a role in the story later on. ;) What did you think about Hermione winning?

To Fragorl: I'm glad you're still with me. ;) I will definitely try to keep you guessing!

To babe-chan: I have to say that Hermione was pretty awesome in this chapter. The hows and whys will come a little later though!

To heartofice21: Hello! Sorry that Harry had to lose the first duel, but don't think I'm done with them yet!! I have the feeling (as they are Harry and Tom) that they will be battling it out sometime in the future—haha sometime in the future! What a pun. Sometimes I crack myself up… ;) Also, I am glad you liked the Ravenclaw door… there will definitely have to be more of that hilarity soon.

To Nicole317: Also hello! Here is the update. I typically update on Tuesdays and Fridays, so be sure to watch for me. (This week being an exception to the rule as I updated on Wednesday…)

To MingIsRandom: I am glad you were able to picture the duel in your mind's-eye. I hope this chapter was just as successful in conjuring images in your head. It is great praise indeed for an author to hear that her work has succeeded in providing vivid imagery from which to read. Thanks!

To flamelm: Thank you, thank you. I definitely love the character of Professor Snape. I am sure he will be in other chapters of this story, and I hope to have him just as sarcastic, and just as snarky. I hope I hit the mark in this chapter as well. Let me know what you think. You have a really good eye for characterization!

To matterhorn: Oh I am so glad you like the interactions with Ron and Marvin. I am striving so hard to have Ron not come across as merely a dunderhead and an inconvenience. I really do think he adds to a story—he certainly has a large role to play in this one. As for Tom and Hermione, well, they write their own scenes!! They are just so dynamic together—it's hard to get the words out fast enough. I am glad you liked the line: 'one would think he had just brought down the savior of the Wizarding world.' I try in all my chapters to have some line, some particular phrase of unusual interest. That was one of them. I'm glad you picked up on it and commented—it's nice to hear that it's not all in my head. ;) You have been the only reader so far to supply a possible reason for Marvin to be sorted into Hufflepuff—and what a reason it was!! I loved it!! If I hadn't already written him in as a Ravenclaw, I might have written him in as a Hufflepuff! Haha. Now wouldn't that have made for an interesting story… hmm… I can see it now. (cackles manically)

To greatstars: Well, you hit the nail on the head!! Tom is definitely more motivated and ambitious than Harry, and he definitely underestimated our favorite Gryffindor witch. Hermione still has some tricks up her sleeve—so we will just have to see what's in store!

To JC1988: A battle of wits—I like it!!! That is definitely going to go somewhere in this story!! Brilliant!!


	11. Chapter 11

He found her in the library after class the next day and sank into the chair opposite her own.

"I know why your spell changed directions."

Hermione's head whipped up from her text, her arms coming to encircle her notes within a protective ring. She hadn't heard him approach, nor had she heard him pull back his chair, which was rather odd considering the library chairs were usually fairly squeaky. Although now that she thought about it, she did detect the faint scent of murtlap and bezoar wafting in the air towards her. The boy had been in potions class not long ago.

"You cast another swish and flick into the spell itself. You charmed it to switch directions after it left."

His voice rang with the fervor of his discovery and the girl's particular cunning. She had adapted Professor Flitwick's theory to wizarding ballistics. The Charms professor had mentioned speed as the primary variable for alteration, while the Gryffindor girl furthered his intention by adding direction to the equation. And, viola-- one, big, churning mass of spell-divergent blue fire.

It had taken him an entire evening of pouring over his texts to figure that out. And even with his notes from class that day, it had taken him the better part of two hours to duplicate it. He wasn't going to admit that fact to the girl though.

Hermione's eyebrows rose at the boy's conjecture, her eyes raking over him with an appraising look. Excluding herself, he was the first sixth year to make that connection, and he had only just seen it yesterday. Her estimation of the boy rose that much higher.

"You know what they say, 'It's all in the wrist.'"

A hesitant smile broke across her face. A sense of academic camaraderie suffused her cheeks with a light glow. It wasn't often she could share in the excitement of her discoveries. Her friends, while not unappreciative of her efforts, lacked a certain depth in their appreciation for spell-work. She considered a spell beautiful to its very foundations. The way a spell's fundamental elements interacted to form a stream of seamless magic was fascinating in its complexity and inspiring in its elegance.

Had she finally found a fellow enthusiast? She certainly hoped so. There were few things she enjoyed more than a good, scintillating debate about magic, and Marvin certainly seemed the scholarly type. She only hoped his enthusiasm held for all types of magical constructs and wasn't merely limited to her research about blood bonds.

Thoughts about her research pulled her from her current reverie. It wouldn't do for Marvin to see what she was currently working on, so she surreptitiously slid her notes into her bag. Marvin, she noticed, gave her a knowing smirk, but seemed content to let it go without comment. A favor for which she was eternally grateful.

"And how about the first spell? Did you figure that one out as well?"

There was a brief span of silence, and then: "No."

Hermione gave him a rueful smile. It was obvious he wasn't accustomed to being stumped. She would know. She was much the same way.

"It's a frequency spell." She explained. "I matched the frequency of my spell to yours, so it would be recognized and more easily accepted by your magical nodes."

He gave her a sharp look. He had picked up on that much by himself.

"Then, I sent a spell, disguised as yours, to scramble your magical shields. While it didn't change the frequency, it did open up holes in your defenses. It works in essence under the same principles as a computer virus."

Marvin caught himself just in time. He wasn't fool enough to ask what a computer was. The girl talked about it with such familiarity, he only assumed that she assumed he was familiar with the concept. He would just have to add 'computer' to his growing list of things to research. He rapped his tongue against his teeth. He already had so much to do!

He muttered something nondescript under his breath. He hoped she would take that to mean he had understood, which, of course was a lie. The next words out of his mouth, however, he was able to say with genuine sincerity. "You'll have to show me sometime. I'd _love_ to add that particular spell to my repertoire."

Hermione's smile grew a little wider. Perhaps her prayers for a proper study buddy had been answered. It would be nice to have someone around that was more on her level. It would certainly make her study sessions more interesting.

"Sure, anytime."

And the conversation came to a natural lull. Hermione pulled out her Defense texts and a blank sheet of parchment. While she couldn't continue her research in front of the new boy, she could certainly work on the essay for Professor Snape's class for Wednesday. Marvin, not to be outdone, pulled a slip of parchment and a library quill from the main desk, and together, they worked in companionable silence until the library closed for curfew.

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A.N. There we go! Some solid Tom and Hermione time! Books are just such a large part of both their lives, I can't imagine a story in which they don't spend hours upon hours in the Hogwarts shelves.

To my readers and reviewers, thank you!

To greatstars: Thanks! I am glad you liked the duel between Hermione and Marvin. How did you like their interaction in the library? I've said this before, but I can say with certainty it is going to be the backdrop for many of our other interactions between the pair.

To felixlee14: Hello and thanks for the review! I am glad to see you like the story. I am trying to bring the two together slowly-- and I think it will work. We have set the groundwork with this chapter-- we'll just have to see how things go from there!


	12. Chapter 12

Wednesday and Thursday came and went with little to nothing of note to report. Marvin took diligent notes in Charms, turned in his Defense assignment to Professor Snape, and performed exemplary work in both Arithmancy and Potions. In the evenings, he continued to run into Hermione in the library, but the nights passed with little words between them. They exchanged a brief nod in greeting, but were otherwise focused on their respective research projects.

At some point during the night, Draco wandered in to see the two bookworms working diligently at their tasks. That proved to be an opportunity too good for the Slytherin to pass up as, on both occasions, he made some assinine comment. However, Marvin paid him little mind. The petulant boy didn't realize that he was intimately familiar with the Slytherin common room and could easily extrapolate the common room password. He knew where the boy slept at night. He could wait until to enact his revenge, when it was dark and with fewer witnesses.

Friday morning dawned with breakfast in the Great Hall as usual. He began the day with his typical morning fare and sat among his peers in his customary seat. Today, Terry Boot was droning on about the effects and differences between _levicorpus _and _liberacorpus_. All in all, it was shaping up to be a rather Ravenclaw day.

He tucked into his eggs and toast, as flutter of sound interrupted his tablemates' conversations. The owls were winging in for their first delivery of the day. The Great Hall soon played host to a sea of browns, greys, and whites, with winged companions diving in with their letters in claw. Marvin, for the most part, ignored the whole affair, as all the people he expected a letter from were in the past. He had no desire to receive letters from anyone in the future.

Thus, he was unpleasantly surprised when a rather substantial letter landed next to his cup of morning tea complete with a pair of unblinking, expectant eyes. It was from Dumbledore.

_Dear Marvin,_

_How have your first few classes been? I wonder if I might have a moment of your time to discuss just that. I would love to know how our newest fledgeling is settling in. I am free tomorrow evening at 7:00. If you would, please come to the Headmaster's office then. I look forward to talking more with you then._

_Sincerely,_

_Headmaster Dumbledore_

Marvin scowled, tearing a huge piece of crust off his toast for the bird. He wasn't hungry anymore, so it might as well be put to good use. It crooned its response and took off into the rafters.

He stared darkly at the remnants of his meal. Breakfast had been a waste. He only hoped the rest of the day wouldn't prove to be the same. He stashed the letter into his robe pockets and strode out of the Great Hall. His time would be better spent in preparations for his next Defense class. But, try as he might, for the rest of the day, his thoughts eddyied and swirled about his upcoming tete-e-tete with the Headmaster.

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7:00 approached with the finality of an Azkaban sentence, the clock tower tolling its own peculiar dirge as Marvin marched his way up to the Headmaster's office. He couldn't help but recall his last impromptu visit here. A slight fear settled somewhere in the pit of his stomach. He felt sick.

How much more could he lose? He wondered as he stepped over the threshold into Dumbledore's domain. He was naught but a shell of his former self with a hollowed and empty name.

"Marvin my dear boy." The Headmaster waved him over to a chair with a warm smile. He at least seemed pleased to see him.

He sank down into the chair, unhappy to note it was the same red chair he had occupied last time. An involunatary shiver ran up his spine.

"Tea?" The Headmaster questioned gently.

Marvin shook his head in response. He didn't trust his insides to stomach much of anything at the moment.

"So," Dumbledore raised his cup to his lips, pausing to take a sip, "how have your first week of classes been?" He asked without preamble.

Marvin gave the man a blank stare. The utter insensitivity of the man had stunned him into silence. He couldn't be serious, could he?! He felt his stomach roil with his frustration as a growl lept up into his throat. He was infinitley glad to have refused the tea at this point, otherwise he would have worn it as a mess all along his front side.

"My classes," he managed to grind out between clenched teeth, "have been going well. I would say it has been the lack of textbooks, clothes, and parchment that has inconvenienced me the most."

Dumbledore's voice took on an edge of concern. "My boy," he said, raising his hands in a placating gesture, "I thought you would come to me if you had any needs."

Silence.

"You?!" Marvin let out a bitter laugh. "The very man to strip me of everything I have ever known! The very man to leave me stranded in the modern day with nothing but the shirt on my back and the wand in my pocket! That I should seek solace from you?! Ha! Forgive me, sir, if even I find that idea a little too ludicrous for my tastes."

Dumbledore was struck speechless. For minutes the only sounds to fill the office were the light whirring of some magical gadgets and the distinct tick-tock of the wall clock.

"But, I honestly thought..." He said, his face twisting into a self-deprecating grimace. He looked grieved. "I'm sorry my boy. I truly am. Is there anything that I can get you now?"

Marvin merely snorted in reply. His words were four days and forty years too late. "Textbooks I have checked out of the library and clothes I have transfigured. As for money and the rest, well, I am sure I can come up with something." His smile grew malicious, "In fact, you shouldn't concern yourself at all."

The Headmaster's shoulders visibly slumped. There was so much anger and hurt in the boy's words. He was almost certain he had lost him, but he couldn't give yp without at least trying to right his wrong. "There is some money I could give you. It's for the students of families with displaced homes and victims of magical violence..."

"Headmaster stop." Marvin raised a hand to cut off Dumbledore's following statement. The effort he was making on his behalf was valliant to be sure, but so entirely Gryffindor it chaffed. He had not fallen so low to accept hand outs from charity work. He was not some simpering street-urchin, nor some orphan to be pitied. "As I've just said, I will find my own way, so I would appreciate it if you did not interfere."

Dumbledore nodded solemnly at the seriousness in the boy's tone. "I understand, my boy, I understand." He said, his voice heavy with regret. "And I would like to thank you for calling this 'wise,' old man to task. It does me good to hear every so often that I am not as perfect as I would like to be nor as unfailing as the world makes me out to be. The wiser and older I get, the more so this is true."

He gave the boy a searching look, his blue eyes dimmed but genuine in their repentance. "I am sorry that I continually fail you. I can only hope you can one day find it in your heart to forgive. I just have far, far too much on my mind."

Marvin said nothing to either confirm or deny the older man's hopes.

"Well, we'll leave it at that for now." He said, drawing the darker boy towards the door. "I will want to see you about a month from now to hear your report on all that we talked about last time."

He followed him out of the office and into the hall. "Again, I apologize for all the hardships I have put you through, and I can only reiterate my desire to make it up to you. If you should need anything, anything at all, please do not hesitate to call me."

The old wizard sent him off with a reassuring grin and a tip of his hat, as he slowly made his retreat back up the stairs. The gargoyle closed behind him with a resounding bang, and it was then, and only then, that the old man allowed his staunch mask to crumble when there was no one around to see tears stream silently down his face.

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A.N. All of you who might have thought that Dumbledore has bitten off more than he can chew-- you were right! I think Dumbledore is a great leader, and a wise man, but that doesn't mean that sometimes he doesn't make mistakes. And, I definitely think that with the war against Voldemort raging on and on, he would be prone to logistical errors and oversights... this just happened to be one of them.

As for my readers and reviewers-- thank you!! Your words of encouragement and advice were the main reason I was able to get this chapter out a day ahead of schedule. Keep it up! I have started using fanfiction's PMs to respond to reviews, so you won't see quite so much at the bottom of the story. I look forward to hearing from you soon.

Overall, I have been considering a change in the title. I have asked many of you for your opinions-- and gotten some wonderful ideas! I am still thinking about what to do, but rest assured I will keep you informed.


	13. Chapter 13

The weekend passed in a blur of activity for Marvin. His meeting with Dumbledore served to remind the boy of his top priorities: discovering a way back to the past and finding a way to support himself. So, he spent his free time alternating between the two. The library served as his base of operations for his research, while the Ravenclaw common room became the head office for his new business endeavors. He had been tempted to make the both of them the library, but he didn't want to mix business with pleasure. So he let them both be.

At the library, he divided his attentions between studying about horcruxes and studying about time travel. The first, obvious enough, was directly correlated to a way home. If he could supply Dumbledore with the necessary information, the old wizard would be bound to send him back. The second, he reasoned, would be if he could find a way back himself. That way, there would be no need to involve the meddling old man. He would only be in this time for as long as it took him to master horcruxes, time travel, or both. He had enough faith in his research abilities that neither one would prove to be a problem.

His business plans, on the other hand, were. He had very little practice in that area, and so was unsure of what to do next. He had played around with a few of the ideas within his head, but none of them struck him as viable opportunities. He'd thought about offering his services as a tutor, but, between his class assignments and Dumbledore's extra research, he had little time to spare as it was. He had no intention of adding incompetent work into his schedule on top of that. It was too altruistic for his tastes anyway. He had also considered 'Diving for Draco Dollars,' but something inside him rebelled at the idea of becoming a bully-for-hire. So, he left that one alone.

Thus, his business remained undecided and unprofitable until well into Sunday night. It wasn't until he was trudging up the stairs for the final time that night that he was struck with a sudden flash of inspiration, in the form of a high-pitched, querulous tone of a first year student.

"I told you!" A brown-haired tyke yelled, his face fuming into a bright shade of red. "I don't know the ingredients to a wit-sharpening solution! That's a second year potion!" The surrounding first years all have an emphatic nod in support.

"A Ravenclaw never relents! Why, when Penelope Clearwater was your age, she had memorized all the textbooks into year three!"

The boy turned pleading eyes to the door. "Couldn't you let us in just this once?" He asked, his voice rising with a plaintive note.

"No." The statue was immovable. "You'll just have to make another trip to the library."

The boy stamped his foot. "But it's almost curfew!"

The statue said nothing in response.

"Arrrggh!" The boy groaned. "This is going to take forever! Sandra," he said, turning to a fellow Ravenclaw companion, "you might as well head up to the library, and make it quick. We'll need the second year potions text."

The blonde-haired girl scampered off, as Marvin stepped from the shadows.

"Rat tails, owl eyes, and extract of raven claw." He said, his succinct tones echoing out across the hallway.

"You again!" The bird gave an indignant squawk as the doors began to creak open. A cheer went up among the first years gathered around its opening.

"Someone go and get Sandra, and tell her to hurry back! The doors are open." The brown-haired boy yelled as he ushered his friends through the archway. He turned to Marvin with a great, big grin on his face. "Thanks, that door's always giving us a world of trouble. It usually takes us 20 minutes to figure a way inside." He struck out his hand. "My name's Jake, Jake Henry."

Marvin took the smaller boy's hand in his own. "Jake, Marvin. It's nice to make your acquaintance." He said, escorting the little leader across the threshold. A conspiratory look came into his eye as a secretive smile spread across his dark features. He had the perfect idea for his business. "Jake," he crooned, "what if I were to tell you there was a cheat sheet available..."

With that, 'Grey's Answers' was born and headed by a certain dark-haired, dark-eyed boy who rallied a rather Slytherin campaign against a very Ravenclaw door. While it started off slow, it soon extended to include all the Ravenclaw years.

Soon everyone knew that Marvin Grey was the answer to all of Ravenclaw riddles. His cheat sheets turned a nice profit indeed. He finally felt as though he was starting to settle into his new life.

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A.N. Hahaha. I think I loved that chapter! It was so much fun to write! It just popped out on its own. (One of the main reasons I was able to get it out so fast after updating on both Friday and Monday.)

Anyway, cheat-sheets for the Ravenclaw door-- who would have ever thought? I tell you, that Marvin is a clever character! I can't wait to see what he'll be up to next!

So this chapter is a little shorter than I typically like my chapter's to be... but I think once you see the next chapter, you'll have an understanding as to why. The opening to the next chapter differs too greatly to be placed at the end here. (Although it would heighten the suspense)

At any rate, thanks to all who have read and commented on my work so far! It continues to be a joy to write for you. I will have more time to flesh out the next chapter tomorrow and Thursday, so I hope to have the next chapter up on Friday.


	14. Chapter 14

When he had gone to bed the previous night, it was to reassuring thoughts of just how comfortable he was staring to feel in his new Ravenclaw life. It was when he awoke, however, that he seriously began to doubt those thoughts.

It had all started with the morning post. With the birds, an unmitigated force swept in as well and erupted into an uproar that just couldn't be ceased. Bedlam, apparently, was the breakfast choice of the day, and everyone partook. Loud gasps and screams of outrage broke out across all four tables. But, none of the other three houses reactions were anything compared to the one at the Gryffindor table. They screamed and yelled, bellowing at the top of their lungs, and began gesturing wildly at everything and nothing at all.

At the source of it all, was the Daily Prophet, with a bold, emblazoned heading that read:

ALTERED MEMORIES AT THE MINISTRY

Political Activists or the Work of the Dark Mark?

_Monday, October 12th, a rash of memory altering charms was detected among staff at all levels of the Ministry. Seemingly innocuous in damage, most victims report only a mild sense of memory loss, akin to what might be experienced on a day-to-day basis. Rufus Scrimgeour Ministry of Magic insists that, "They are still looking into the causes of such wide-spread forgetfulness," but that it "most likely has something to do with the up-coming election, as work around the Ministry has gotten fierce." He assures the public that, "it has nothing to do with the Dark Mark."_

_Arnold Peacegood_, _an Obliviator for the Department of Magical Accidents has a different opinion. He has stated that the, "results were too far reaching, and too wide spread, for it to be anything else than a low-level curse." His main concern, however, is that the full effects of this curse are unknown and may still be working to re-organize the worker's thoughts. For the full interview with Peacegood, see pg 14, "An Interview to Remember."_

Marvin had to stop reading, as the article began to wave and swim before his eyes. Unfamiliar words, phrases he was sure he had never heard before, rang across his mind with haunting familiarity. They tickled and teased at his subconscious, but never managed to surface entirely.

He let out a frustrated growl. By all logical accounts, there should be nothing of recognizable in all that gibberish, and yet, he couldn't shake the feeling that he somehow possessed some intimate, inner knowledge of the whole affair.

But certainly that couldn't be possible, could it?

Marvin was saved from his alarming thoughts by an angry disturbance at the Gryffindor table. A veritable army of red and gold was gearing up for war with a disheveled mop of black hair for a leader. He rose up from among their ranks, with his green eyes flashing, and stormed out of the Great Hall. His two friends followed close behind him, their overall concern evident on their expressive faces.

What had set them all off? He wondered. That green-eyed Gryffindor was like a rouge curse-- there was no telling when he was going to flare up. He gave a brief shake of his head. He really didn't have time to mull over Harry's particular predicament, as he was in enough of one all on his own. All thoughts aside, he was in a foreign time with little to no idea about the current state of affairs. That was unacceptable. Research, he decided, was a must. He was certain to be more well-read by the end of the day. He just needed to make it through the rest of the day first. He would find out what it meant to have a Dark Mark by the end of the day even if he had to scour the library to do it.

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He went through class, his mind only half focused on the Charms the Professor was spouting out. The other half of his mind was fully occupied with the unusual events of that morning. Normally, he would expect the flighty Professor to say something in response to his obvious lack of interest, but Flitwick himself seemed to have his own problems focusing his thoughts as well. In fact, the entire rest of the class seemed dazed and distracted, their thoughts clearly not on their work at all. It was a rather tedious atmosphere to be in. He breathed a sigh of relief when it was finally over.

Defense proved, much to Marvin's surprise and dismay, to be even less productive than Charms. He had been looking forward to another dueling session, but the Professor was no where to be seen. He was, for whatever reason, conspicuously absent, and, had instead, left them a long list of things to do. They were to start with chapter 8 and continue on_._

Marvin openly scowled at the writing scrawled elegantly across the vast black board. He hadn't pegged the Professor as the type to take a sick day lightly, but then perhaps he had misread the man. Or perhaps he had merely left the school in pursuit of more pleasurable company, Marvin would never know. He only hoped that whatever had drawn the older man away from the school was significant enough to warrant all the unnecessary busy work he seemed wont to pile upon them.

He opened his copy of _Defeating Dark Marks and Dark Designs _to page 148 with a bang and began to copy.

_Obliviates,_ he wrote, _are memory-adjusting charms that work to eliminate target memories by severing them from their corresponding nerve endings. Without these neural pathways, the memory is rendered useless. In contrast, there are a few lesser known spells that seek to alter the subject's memory, not by elimination, but through a more reconstructive approach... _

And with that, for all his earlier misgivings about the wayward professor, he quickly and easily found himself sucked into the vast realm of Neural-necromancy. Up until the last bell that was. Before it had even pealed out its final ring, he was out the Defense door and sprinting towards the fourth floor.

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It was all there. All in the books. _The Dark Mark, Death Eaters-- Voldemort._

He knew it, and yet he knew it not at all. Again, the words, the phrases, the people, the places, they were all known, all familiar. And yet, they were only familiar in the sense of someone who had read about something, heard about something, or had maybe perhaps even seen something.

But never anything as if he had _experienced_ it.

And therein lay the problem. His mind spoke of a conscious far removed from the facts he saw on the page. His memories told him he had been but a casual observer. It was only his subconscious that raised its voice in disaccord. It whispered plans of such dark design that Marvin could only stare and wonder if there had been something more. Those nebulous fingers of doubt wound their way through him like a plague, and still he was no closer to unlocking their tantalizing secrets. They were dead and buried within the bowels of his mind and he could do nothing to raise them.

……………………………………………………..

A.N. Okay so sometimes I think this story writes itself—as in it has been wonderfully easy to get these last few chapters out. I can only hope it keeps this up!

As for the story, I would like to say one thing: LET THE GAMES BEGIN!!

I have it on good authority-- being the author of the story and all that-- I can say that the plot has really and finally begun to unfold. It's only going to continue to build from here! Any guesses are more than welcome! It's going to be an interesting ride!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Thank you to all who have read and reviewed the story thus far. I hope you continue to enjoy it. Let me know what you think.


	15. Chapter 15

Marvin clutched the skin at his temples, his hands fisting deep into his hair. He had never before been so frustrated, never before felt so defeated! His head dropped to the table with a loud thud. He wrapped his arms around his head and remained in that position for some time-- how long, even he wasn't sure. An unfamiliar shadow fluttered across the inside of his eyelids, so he squinted up into the brightness that surrounded him. It was the towering form of Draco Malfoy.

"Working late at the library again I see, Grey," he drawled. "Trying to give Granger a run for her money? Or is this just your ideal setting for a date?"

Marvin matched the boy's knowing smirk with a cruel one of his own. "I'm sure you'll make some grand assumption either way, regardless of my answer," he said, "so, why don't we save ourselves both the trouble and ignore that rather frivolous question."

"As you will," he said, placing a hand to a nearby a chair back. He flopped into the seat with an artless grace that screamed of privileged and over-bearing wealth. "So, what, if not the Gryffindor witch, brings you to the library this evening, Grey?"

Marvin rapped his knuckles against the text spread out over the table in front of him. "Research."

"Research," the blonde boy echoed back. "It must be something dreadfully important to have held your attention for so long."

Marvin replied with a shrug, "I suppose that some might consider it so."

Draco sent him a dubious look as he plucked the nearest three books from the table. "Voldemort: The Rise and Fall, Significant Wizarding Events from the 1980's On, The Dark Ages for Modern Times." He ran a slender finger along each spine in a light a caress. "You know, Marvin," he began, his silver eyes narrowing into mere slits, "if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were amassing a collection about the Dark Lord himself."

Marvin returned the boy's suspicious glare with the level gaze of his own. "All under the strict interest of information, I assure you."

"I see," the boy said, "I can find no fault with that. In fact," he added with a quizzical smirk, "your Ravenclaw qualities should be commended. The common wizards of today know nothing about the subject. It's a travesty-- ignorance of the Dark Lord is tantamount to being ignorant of oneself."

Marvin said nothing.

"You know," the boy continued on in a low whisper, "my father might have a more _informative_ book selection at the Manor. It would only take a small gesture on my part to put in a good word for you..." his voice trailed off, as he fixed the other boy with a meaningful stare. "With your particular _interests_ and the Malfoy's favor, there's literally no telling what wizarding circles would be open to you."

Marvin gave a nod of his head. "I would appreciate your efforts greatly. I will consider your _generous _offer with great care."

The boy answered with his characteristic smirk. "I look forward to your response," he said, standing with a formal bow, "and I venture to think my father might say the same." With that, he left with the same grace he had when he entered.

Marvin bit the inside of his cheek to keep his ghost of a smile from breaking out across his face. Now_ that_ had been sufficiently _entertaining_. Obviously, he had been spending too much of his time with lions and eagles, if a chance interaction with one of the snakes left him feeling this invigorated and refreshed. Slytherin subtlety, he decided, was like a balm to the soul. He only wished some of the other houses would try to emulate some of its finer techniques, especially as a very Gryffindor girl materialized from the shadows beside him.

"I saw the whole thing," she said as she stormed up to his small table. Her eyes burned with such a righteous anger that Marvin was surprised he didn't combust immediately on contact.

"Your flair for the dramatic is positively astounding! You have successfully extended and distorted the truth past any and all forms of recognition. Tell me, little lion, what is it that you _think_ you saw?"

"And to think I once considered you intelligent!" She let out a growl. "Stop pretending to be obtuse! You can't tell me that you didn't pick up on Draco's signals! He was practically begging to get you into his "club."

Marvin let out a snort of his own in response. "The day I am unable to divine some piece of knowledge that a Gryffindor happens to stumble upon has not yet dawned. I assure you, at every point in that conversation, I was aware of both its over and its undertones.

"Then why say yes?!" She entreated in a desperate whisper. "We both know he was asking about this!" Her fist slammed onto the open books, their dark designs slithering up from beneath her fingers.

"Granger," he warned, "I have done no such thing. You would have realized this too, had you not been too busy making assumptions and barging in."

"Now, I will say this once, and only once, so listen well." He ignored the look of cautious hope that crept into her eyes. "I have no intentions of joining Draco and his merry band of misfits. I would never take the Dark Mark only to end my days as some nameless, faceless minion. So rest assured," he said, pinning her with a hard look. He swept by the girl, the hemlines of their robes mingling as he passed. It wasn't until he had completely left the library that he allowed himself one quiet admission:

He could take a Dark Mark for the position of _leader_. But, even as he thought it, he couldn't help but wonder how the small Gryffindor girl would react to a revelation such as that.

............................................................................................

A.N. Well, there you go. Those of you who have been clamoring for some Tomione scenes have seen it, those who have wanted some answers have got it. (a line very loosely paraphrased from the movie "Count of Monte Cristo." If you haven't seen it, I highly recommend it)

So, Draco and Hermione and Marvin all in one chapter-- what a wonderful combination. I love writing scenes between Marvin and Draco, and I love writing scenes with Marvin and Hermione. That said, this chapter was love squared. hahaha.

To my readers and reviewers in general: thank you!

And to the reviewer AHV in particular: Hello and welcome. Thanks for your first review. You had stated that the story was progressing slowly-- I am sorry. . I write what I see and what I have planned, so if the story is a bit slow moving, perhaps that means I see things in slow-motion? hahaha. I have no idea. Anyway, here is some more of the coveted Tomione interaction. I can say that they will be interacting on a more regularly now that the base for the story has been set. Again, sorry it took so long. I can only hope it will be worth it in the end! Hope to hear from you soon.


	16. Chapter 16

He didn't see Hermione anywhere outside of class for the rest of the week. It wasn't until after Defense class on Monday that she attempted the library again. He had been in what he had dubbed his "alcove," studying the usual things when she approached.

With every step, she paused, as if trying to convince each foot to move forward. She even turned around and backtracked twice, but in the end, she finally managed to inch her way to his side. When she was about two feet from him, he tore his eyes from his work, giving her what he thought to be a rather exasperated look.

Still, she didn't speak and merely fidgeted under his careful scrutiny. She tugged here and there at an errant lock and fiddled with the hem line of her skirt.

A smile began to pull at the corner of his lips. The lioness wasn't always as brave as she made herself out to be. An errant chuckle bubbled up from inside his chest. That sound seemed to snap the girl out of whatever trance she had been in, for she suddenly started to speak, the words rushing out in one long breath.

"Marvin," she breathed out, "I thought about what you said last time and … " she nibbled at her lower lip, sending him a nervous glance, "well, you were right. If I had only stopped to think about a few things, I'm sure I would have come to some very different conclusions. I didn't mean to fly off the handle at you. I'm sorry."

Having said her apology, she gave a cursory flick of her long mane and sent it cascading down her back. Now, with her hair out of her face, she turned large, brown expectant eyes his way.

Apparently, he was supposed to say something.

"Alright, well, just don't let it happen again."

There. That should have been good enough to send the girl on her way. In fact, he fully expected her to turn on her heel and leave any moment now.

She didn't.

Instead, the curious girl flung the rather heavy-looking knapsack from her shoulders and began hauling oversized tomes and rotes onto the other side of the desk. He gave her an odd look.

"What is it exactly that you are doing?"

The question popped out well before he had time to consider the consequences.

"I should think that would be obvious," she said as she continued piling books onto her side-- or rather, _his_ side of the desk that she was taking over.

"But this is _my_ desk." He swept a wide arm over the vast array of work stretched out before him as if that explained everything.

She looked down her nose at him with a haughty huff. "It can't be _your_ desk, as I've used this desk before, too. You'll just have to content yourself with sharing. It's _our_ desk."

Marvin nearly sputtered at the girl's sheer audacity! He took back his earlier comment: the girl was a lioness. She had to be to pull a stunt like that. She had had the gall to march in shy and uncertain, under the pretense of an apology, with the underlying motive of stealing his prime studying space!

There was no denying it: this Granger girl was good.

"Fine," he said with a stiff wave to the seat across from him. "You can stay."

And the girl practically hopped into her seat and began leafing through her notes.

"But," he added ominously, "the minute I find you disturbing my work, you're out."

She gave an absentminded nod of her head. "And the minute you disturb mine, you're out."

He gave her an incredulous look. For all his acidic vitriol, the girl was hardly even phased. It merely bounced off her head and got lost among her myriad curls. She hadn't even looked up from her book!

"Well, as long as we're all agreed," he said, a note of begrudging approval in his voice.

All outward sources would say that he had acqueisced. Inwardly, however, he had decided to monitor her movements like a hawk. At any moment, should she so much as ink her quill incorrectly he would swoop down and strike. That would end their budding study buddy relationship!

But for all his careful watching, he could find no faults in her actions. She did not so much as smudge the ink across the page. He was wasting his efforts. It seemed he was inevitably stuck with Ms. Granger. But as the hours dragged on in a comfortable silence, he couldn't prevent the small hope from burgeoning in his chest that this arrangement might prove to be mutually beneficial to all.

……………………………………

It was the next day after Potions when Marvin wearily made his way to the fourth floor. Hermione, he could see, had already made it to his study place. Wordlessly, she scooted her books to the side, clearing him a space to work. Gratefully, he sat down.

…………………………………..

The following day was the same, only this time, Marvin preceded her. Mirroring her gesture from the day before, he quietly shifted his work to one side. With a slight nod of her head in thanks, she sat down.

Thus, the two passed the week in relative harmony, pausing only in their work to ask a brief question here and there. It wasn't until late on a Sunday night when Hermione finally cracked.

"Arrrgggghhh." She let out a frustrated moan, pounding her head into the large, rather unyielding text on her lap.

Marvin paused in his writing and looked up. "What's wrong?" he asked with something deliciously malicious in his dark tone. "Something the Gryffindor genius can't figure out?"

She rolled her eyes at the given epithet with an exaggerated sigh. "As I've told you before, I'm no genius."

His eyes crinkled together as he looked over at her with a sly smile. "Then you must find it in your heart to forgive me if I don't say anything to the contrary." His voice was light and playful, but his eyes held a serious gleam. "So what is it?"

Hermione practically bit through her lip to keep from spilling her secret. She let out a indignant huff. "Nothing. It's nothing. Just get back to work."

……………………………………….

It was the following day at the same time and the same place, when Marvin let out a frustrated growl.

Hermione peeked up from where the large tome lay sprawled across her lap, her expression very similar to the one Marvin had worn the day before. "What is it? Something the brilliant Ravenclaw can't solve?"

He shot her a glare. "Nothing. It's nothing. Just get back to work," he said angrily, parroting her words from yesterday.

"If you say so," came her hesitant response, but she nevertheless redirected her gaze to her studies.

It wasn't until about two hours later and about the fifth aggravated sigh from Marvin that she threw her pen down and shoved her book close with a loud bang.

"Seriously, what is it? What's bothering you?"

Her whisper was harsh and echoed about the small space. But even in her frustration, she still couldn't keep the note of concern from her voice.

Marvin seemed to have forgotten about her presence entirely. His hands ran angrily through his hair as he tapped impatient fingers in tattoo against the table top.

Hermione reached across to cover his hand with her own and all at once, the incessant beat stopped.

"Look," she said forcing his distracted mind to listen, "I don't know what this is about, but it's obvious that we are both struggling with some of the same things. And I have the feeling that it all deals with some rather advanced magic.

"I propose a trade, an agreement if you will," she went on, oblivious to the much larger hand as it lay still beneath her own. "You help me work on my research an hour at a time and I'll help you work on yours. What do you say?" She raised her hand from his own and brought it level with his eye.

Marvin stared at the offered appendage, quick calculations running in his head. This was something he could certainly use to his advantage. But was he ready for it? And did he really need it?

He closed his eyes against the tumult of his mind, willing all the unanswered questions away. Hermione was not just any witch; she was a brilliant one. If anyone could help him in his attempt to ward off Dumbledore and return to his own time in one fell swoop, it would be this girl. Whatever help she could offer would be a boon. He'd be a fool not to take it. Besides, he added as an aside, if things truly did turn out of his favor, he could always blackmail her with the secrets of her own research.

Without any further speculation, he clasped their two hands together in his vice-like grip. For better or for worse, the deal was sealed and they were in this as one. He stared down at the prize now enclosed within his fingers and gave her a precarious smile.

"So, hypothetically speaking," he purred, "I know this friend of a friend and he is looking into a way to initiate time-travel and nullify Horcruxes..."

And as he deliberated on, Hermione couldn't help but wonder if she had somehow made a pact with the devil.

…………………………………………..

A.N. Well, there you have it— and it all started with a handshake.

And! I would like to say a huge THANKS to my new beta: Serpentinred—AWESOME JOB!! Not only is this chapter finished, but also all the previous chapters!! (that means that things will only get better from here on out!) WHOO HOO. Thanks Serp!

Also, as usual, to my readers and reviewers: my story would hardly be a story without people to enjoy it. Thank you for taking the time to read it.

To my two reviewers in particular:

Chelsea: Welcome aboard this fanfiction! I am glad you are enjoying the piece. Your words are high praise indeed. I can only hope that you are still reading and liking what you see. Things are certainly starting to get interesting at Hogwarts!

Fragorl: Hehehe. Draco eh? Well, I'm sure he'll manage to ferret his way in here somehow! ;) A story wouldn't be complete without him, right?


	17. Chapter 17

It was the week before Halloween and Professor Snape returned with a vengeance _–_ more sour and cantankerous than ever.

"Class," his voice boomed out in his most ominous, most foreboding tone, "I apologize for the sudden extended nature of my absence. It will prove difficult to make up for lost time and your insufficient minds leave me little to be optimistic about. With that said, I suggest we dispense with the pleasant niceties of 'how was your trip?' and move onto today's topic."

He smacked a long, white hand against the cold slate of the chalkboard. The sound reverberated around the classroom, commanding the students' attention with a heavy "crack."

"Those of you who have actually done the reading will have undoubtedly realized that the topic for today is Obliviates."

Twitters of excitement rose up at the professor's announcement, particularly among a group of less studious Gryffindors. They were led in their cheers by a tall redhead. The professor's next statement, however, quickly brought them to silence.

"A test. Let's find out what you know. Mr. McDougal," he barked out, "list the Obliviate Charms in order of weakest to strongest."

The boy looked ready to faint. "_I-i-nhibeto, subiectate, _and _obliviate,_" he sputtered.

"The epitome of eloquence," he sneered, his black eyes boring into the boy's own, "you managed to read the correct sections. Five points _to _Ravenclaw."

McDougal sighed his relief. He was glad that trial was over.

Snape turned to the boy at his right. He was half-way to petrified, a look of abject terror plastered across his face. He was the professor's next victim. "Mr. Longbottom," he dragged out each syllable with a long roll of his tongue, "what would be the main difference between a _subiectate_ and an _obliviate_?"

The boy squirmed under that terrible gaze, shuffling frantically through his notes. "A _subiectate_ re-re-reconstructs memories. An _obliviate _obliviates them."

"Will wonders never cease?! You answered correctly." The faux awe in his voice grew low and menecing as he stooped low over his prey, "might I advise you, however, that next time you find another way to answer-- one that does not involve the use of your _extensive_ notes or the help of your over-eager friends. Five points _from_ Gryffindor."

Neville gave the professor a stiff nod of his head, a resigned set to his jaw. Losing points had been a foregone conclusion, but at least it had only been a small amount this time. Usually, his interactions with this particular professor left him covered in goo and sentenced to a week-long detention. Given his class record, five points really wasn't that bad. In fact, he almost considered it gain.

Interrogation complete, the professor rounded the table to face his final victim. An unholy light shone from the depths of his black orbs. "Mr. Weasley."

It sounded like the Pale Death, and in that moment, Ron thought he heard the answering cry of a thestral ring out from across the distance. He knew he was doomed. He snapped his head up so fast, it was a wonder he didn't get broom-lash.

"If you and Mr. Potter are quite finished, I want you to describe all the adverse effects of inhibeto."

Ron swallowed thickly. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down in one, long visible slide. The half-uncertain, half-grimace with which he stared out at the teacher did not bode well for the rest of the class. "Well l... you see ... I mean that is ..."

"A simple 'I don't know' would have sufficed. Five points from Gryffindor, Mr. Weasley. Next time, try to at least skim the material before coming to class."

"But professor!" The boy's outburst died on his lips at the scathing look the professor sent his way. He hung his head in shame, his lips forming one long petulant frown. "Greasy git wouldn't know holiday spirit if it bit him in the arse," he muttered sullenly to himself. "It's Halloween weekend coming and Hogsmede to boot!"

Unfortunately for the second youngest of the Weasley clan, Professor Snape was not as hard of hearing as the young man thought him to be, as his subsequent rage would prove testament to.

"That, Mr. Weasley," he admonished in a low whisper, "is this coming weekend and has nothing to do with the weekend just passed. Or did you not notice how all of your other classmates found time to complete their assignments? Fifteen points for insolence."

Ron met the professor's dark eyes with an angry glare of his own. He looked steamed enough to sprout wings and start breathing fire, but somehow managed to reign in any further comments.

"Now, if there is no other pubescent posturing," he said giving a certain Gryffindor boy a pointed look, "I'd like to direct the class to a practical application of the text."

The rest of the class wisely remained silent.

"I will demonstrate the weakest of the Obliviates: Inhibeto. Not so that you may charm your classmates into oblivion_ –_ as much as that might be an improvement on their current faculties_ –_ but rather so that you might increase your advantage during duels when on the offense."

He paused at the front of the class to pull out a large wired cage from under his desk. A thick green blanket covered its contents from view. But it was obvious from the way that the heavy curtains continually ruffled that whatever was inside box was very much alive.

The tension in the room was palpable as the professor reached for the silken chord that lay to one side. "Instead, we will be practicing on ... "

The entire class held its collective breath.

"Ferrets."

And let it all out again in a disappointed whoosh. They had been hoping for something dangerous at least, something magical at best, but were given a common, ordinary house rat.

Professor Snape merely smirked at the look on the their crestfallen faces. Students, he mused, were such a fickle crowd. There were only two students in the class not dissatisfied with his choice, Potter and Weasley, and they seemed positively ecstatic about the prospect of cursing ferrets. He decided there and then that their unwarranted behavior was cause for concern. There was no way he wanted either of them that happy in one of his classes. He only hoped his next words would serve to dull the edge of their excitement.

"As mentioned before, the Inihibito Charm is immensely useful in dueling situations as it renders your opponent defenseless. It acts to sever the body's response to the autonomic immune system. In other words," he gave them all a hard stare, "it shuts down the body's motor responses."

The students all let out a horrified gasp; their faces displaying a mix of myriad emotions from deeply inscenced to partially intrigued.

Fickle crowd indeed. "Think of it like a brief shock. The effects are only temporary and last only as long as it takes for the spell to discharge from the body." He raised his hands in a curt gesture to cut off the disapproval he could see forming at their lips. "Rest assured," he said with a sneer, "no permanent damage will befall our ferret friends."

With that, he pointed his wand at the unsuspecting mammal and muttered 'Inhibito.' A red, angry-looking spark shot from the tip of his wand to encompass its prey in a swathe of red light.

The hapless creature let out the most piteous squeal as its body rolled to the ground, its limbs lifeless and useless. Its sable eyes stared up and out at the class unknowing and unseeing.

"Professor! Professor," came their indignant cries. But he silenced them with a harsh shake of his head, forcing them to pay witness until the very end.

The seconds dragged by with agonizing slowness, until all at once, the ferret convulsed, once, twice, and then twitched back to life. It gave a happy squeak before jumping around its cage as if never cursed.

The class was mystified.

"As you can see, there were no lasting effects on the ferret, but there would be lasting effect on you. I need not go into detail at how disastrous that same spell would be in a duel were you not adequately prepared for it. And that is why I implore you to store this lesson within you today. For in these uncertain times, these are the skills that you need to know, that you need to use, and, eventually, that you need to build an immunity to."

The professor's words had a rather sobering effect on the class. And so, while many students rebelled against the inhumane use of ferrets, they acknowledged it as a terrible necessity. They were fighting a war after all.

There was only one student, however, in the back, in a far off corner of the room, that remained unmoved by the professor's poignant speech. And not because he was too fastidious or too scrupulous in nature, but rather just the opposite. He found the spell itself appealing and needed no extraneous words to encourage him to practice it. It sang to his dark side and everything else perverse in pleasure and he was pleased to lay claim to its seductive cadence.

With that, he took up his wand and eagerly placed it between the animal's uneasy eyes. There was no reason to hesitate. He was merely inflicting a part of the same curse that another before him had so willingly bestowed upon him.

...........................................................

A.N. A big shout out to my beta for working through this chapter! There were some really odd moments in it before Serp took a look at it. Again, thanks for an awesome job!

Also, thank you to my readers and reviewers. I don't know if you noticed, but I did: we made it over the 100 review mark!!!!! WHOOO HOOOOOOOO!!! I'm so happy. Here's to many more happy readers and happy reviewers. My thanks goes out to you all.


	18. Chapter 18

Defense class on Wednesday was more of the same charming rodents. Marvin had mastered the spell during the last class, so he spent his time perfecting it.

_Would the charm be less effective if applied over a distance_?

He tried the charm from across the room and found that it wasn't.

_What if he altered the point of impact_?

He set the spell to target different parts of the ferret's brain. He attacked the frontal lobe, and the ferret stopped twitching and stared blankly into space. He sent the spell into the hippocampus and amygdala, and the ferret began to gyrate violently. It alternated between moods of extreme agitation and episodes of intense calm, and even went so far as to try to exert its sexual dominance over one of the wires in the cage.

It was absolutely fascinating.

_How would the spell work on different mediums_?

He pulled the ferret out of its cage and began to Transfigure the beast. Its white fur shortened; the new color darkened and stained each strand to a maroon brown.

"Fascinating," a low voice broke over his shoulder.

Marvin's head snapped up as his eyes locked with Professor Snape's. His fathomless black eyes now gleamed down at him like two black beetles. Their depths teemed with a curious light.

"I will be moving on to weasels and otters next, sir," Marvin spoke to assuage the unanswered questions in the man's eyes.

"Oh?" The professor gave an approving rumble at the back of his throat. Something in his answer must have pleased him. "And why not practice on the real thing?" He asked, a strange lilt to his voice.

Marvin's hand stilled at the base of the weasel's head when he heard the man's quiet question. His thoughts centered and converged around the professor's insinuation. "Humans," he breathed, the word tumbling off his lips in a rush quivering disbelief.

The professor neither confirmed nor denied his suspicions; he merely turned to quietly stalk away. Marvin, however, caught a glimpse of a twisted smile that hovered over the man's thin lips, and the malevolence he saw there filled him dark anticipation. He could hardly wait for the next class.

………………………………………………………..

It came on Friday, October 30th, when Professor Snape asked them-- no-- specifically instructed them to utilize every construct covered in class in their next duel. He had given them express permission to enchant, jinx, and curse their classmates in a no-holds bar magic free-for-all. It was quite possibly one of the best pre-Halloween gifts Marvin had ever gotten. To think it had come from a professor!

Marvin stalked around the class, ignoring Harry's cries for a rematch. He sought out his opponent with unerring steps and a mind of singular purpose. He had a lot of _interesting_ spells that he was eager to try, and would be sure not to lose a second time. He bowed at her unsuspecting feet. "Hermione," he hissed, a smirk deepening across his chiseled face.

Her brown eyes flashed something unreadable. "Marvin." She bowed warily back, widening her stance to a dueler's crouch. The magic began mere seconds later.

"_Petrificus bracchius.__" _

Hermione dodged right and the spell just missed petrifying her left arm. She darted in between a row of desks and ran along the chairs that were lined there.

_Idiot_, he thought unrepentantly. _She should never have cornered herself_. "Incendio." The desks caught fire in a roaring blaze. The girl looked at him with panic in her eyes, as she barreled down that corridor of fire.

He cast a sticking charm on the floor and it was covered in a non-descript white goo. Two distinct, disgusting squelches rent the air as that sticky white substance sucked the shoes from her feet and peeled the socks from her legs. Hermione made it all of three steps before she was mired in the mess in nothing but her bare feet. The flames around her leapt higher and higher, licking dangerously at her robes and hair. She wrenched her body around the _Expelliarmus_ Marvin winged her way, but her arms and shoulder caught in that blazing inferno.

She screamed. Her hands popped and blistered, as the pungent scent of singed robes and burning flesh filled her nose. She gritted her teeth against the pain, forcing her wand hand through motions that were almost second nature to her now. Her wand sang as if under its own accord.

"_Tempestas_!" Water burst forth, soaking through their robes in a matter of seconds. The air sizzled as the rain pelted the raging fires into a canopy of thick smoke. They raised their sleeves and heaved in black gulps of air.

"_Inhibeto_. _Expelliarmus_," he choked out as the girl dropped to her knees. His two spells sailed over her head harmless. She dug her wand tip into the white goo beneath her, christening it a slick black, and dove into the oily mess.

"_Inhibeto_. _Expelliarmus_!" she yelled, as she shot towards him.

The two spells collided with his chest with unerring accuracy. He pitched forward, the air inside his lungs rushing out in a whoosh. The girl careened into him with a tangle of slippery limbs and he toppled over her with a crash. His shoulders plowed into the tiny girl's chest and she heaved under him. His head smashed against the cold stone floor with an audible crack.

That experience, however, was devoid of pain. It was the first sign that his motor functions were shutting down. His traumatic spill was the same to him as if he were watching it as a casual witness. Everything seemed removed, detached, as if the body that crumpled about him was connected to someone other than himself. The last conscious sensation to register within his mind's eye was the vague but naked feeling of his wand hand as his wand was spirited away.

His body twitched and writhed its response on the floor; the dark boy knew nothing of the next few minutes of his own personal hell. His glassy eyes stared unseeing as the scene unfolded around him. Hermione rushed forward, her hands beating a frantic rythym on his chest. Her face hovered inches from his own. The professor, for all his firm grip as it wrenched him from the castle floor, seemed to him a ghost along his skin for all his lack of substance. He did not feel Professor Snape as he carried him bodily from the room, nor did he hear his bloodcurdling scream as it echoed down the hall.

All he knew was a buzz of white static burning between his ears. It overwhelmed his senses in an excruciating tympani of sound, and pounded against the contours of his mind for hours without any sign of pending release. Had he been in possession of any of his faculties he would have cried his relief when he slipped into that blessed oblivion known to the unconscious.

………………………………………………………….

He woke with a start, only to be affronted by the same wash of blinding white light. The walls were white. The ceiling tiles were white. The sheets that enveloped him like a tomb were white.

For a brief moment, Marvin wondered if he was still trapped within the hinterlands of his mind. He wrestled with that hated mist, tearing it from his neck until he saw the reassuring black of his robes peak out from under all of that white.

"Now that'll be quite enough out of you."

He squinted his eyes towards the source of the stern voice at his side. It hovered just above his shoulder, bustling about in a flurry of movement. "Madame Pomfrey?" he croaked out, his voice gravelly and raw from disuse.

"In the flesh. And you'll be kind enough to lay back down in bed, Mr. Grey. I'll not have you undoing hours of intense work."

He speared the old nurse with a look of confusion as he gradually sank back into the numerous pillows at his side. _How had he gotten here_? He wondered, the last scenes of his memory flashing behind his eyes.

He saw his duel with Hermione, but anything after her Expelliarmuswas all blank. He couldn't recall a thing. "Hermione," he snarled flinging the offending bed sheets from his lithe frame. What had she done?

And as if his thoughts had conjured the girl, he caught sight of her slight frame sitting pensively in the hospice chair beside him. Remnants of their duel lay smudged across her face and hair in broad, black strokes, and her hands were bandaged in some thick, foul-smelling poultice.

"Marvin, oh thank Merlin," she exhaled a shaky breath, giving him a watery smile, "we thought you were going to die. If Professor Snape hadn't been there to diffuse the spell, you might have…"

"Granger," he cut-in calling her up short. "I don't need your emotional conjectures. I want to hear the facts," he said leveling her with a look. "Now," in a tone brooked no argument, "what happened?"

.................................................................

A.N. Okay, and there we have it-- a cliffhanger. wince... sorry. I tried to make it until the next chapter-- but it just kept getting longer and longer and longer. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I have the next chapter in the works.

As usual, Serp you did an awesome job-- excellent. I hope to get chapter 21 to you soon.

And a thank you to my reviewers! I love hearing from you. I hope to be more responsive, breathing and moving with a pulse, now that I have finished changing houses and getting over bronchitis. Awesome. Hope to hear from all of you soon. :) Also, the weasel and otter comment is the particular genius of pstibbons. You should read her work and her profile page-- not only does she have good stories, she has great opinions and wonderful recommendations, too!


	19. Chapter 19

"You were screaming and your convulsions wouldn't stop." Hermione had to forcibly bite her lip to keep it from trembling. She ducked her head into her chest and clenched her fists into two distorted white blobs wrapped in a foul-smelling poultice.

"Granger," he snapped, "I thought I told you no emotional conjectures. Why would you be crying over my bedridden body?"

His words only served to spur her guilt further. He watched a new wave of it crash over her features, as her brow crumpled together into an unrecognizable mess. The tears pooling in her eyes now spilled over her lashes to form a miserable trail down her cheek.

"Forgive me for caring," she sniffed, hastily wiping her jaw with yards of unyielding gauze.

Her damn lip still quivered far too much, but there was that familiar spark in her eyes. She was angry with him—good. He waved at the girl to continue, "So, what happened next?"

"The professor grabbed you and brought you here and did something to help stem your seizure." She took a steadying breath, "You weren't completely healed, but you were better off than when I'd left."

"And then?! What happened next?" He drummed an impatient tattoo against the starched sheets beneath his fingers.

The girl averted her gaze, as her shoulders slumped to her sides. "I don't know," she breathed.

"Granger!" he yelled. "How is it that you have managed to successfully avoid answering anything useful in this entire conversation? You have made a mockery of the word 'dialogue.'"

"I told you everything I saw!" she yelled back. "I don't know the rest because I had my own wounds to look after!" She punctuated her point with a swing of her bear-paw hands.

"Don't even try to blame me! I may be the reason why you are in this hospital wing, but you would do well to remember that you are mine. You have been dangerously close to forgetting just whose hand it was that landed me in this hospice bed."

The girl said nothing in response. Her body hung limp in her hospital chair. Clumps of tar still matted her hair above her tear-streaked face. With her bandaged appendages, he could only think of one word to describe her: pathetic.

Silence stretched between them, the only sounds the distant whirring of magical machinery and the distinct ticking of the hospital's clock. Its tick-tock resounded across the sterile room in a cascade of sound, echoing louder and louder, as the austere acoustics of the room amplified the noise to intolerable levels.

The girl shifted uncomfortably in her chair and it squeaked in protest. Had her hands not been so badly wounded, he would have expected to see her fidgeting with the hemline of her skirt. Instead, she patted at the abused fabric with an unwieldy paw.

Anger rose up in his chest, threatening to overwhelm him, as his features darkened into a tight scowl. _Couldn't the girl see he needed these answers?_ _What was wrong with her?!_

If he had had any strength left in his body, he would have reached over and strangled the girl. He was sick and tired of not getting any answers. He was sick and tired of the whole situation.

"Just—just go."

The girl snapped her head up, utterly aghast. When she made to protest, he commanded it with all the bitter rage he could muster. "Just go already and get the mediwitch!"

He ignored the muted hurt he saw in her expression as she rose from her seat. Her movements were halting, lurching, as if she half-expected to hear him halt her steps to call her back. He didn't. Her footfalls echoed plaintively about the empty chamber, growing fainter and further away with each one.

……………………………………………………

"Madame Pomfrey, what happened?"

The words had popped out of his mouth even before the nurse had drawn the white curtains around his room. She glided into the room with silent steps, easing her weight down beside him. Her slow and reserved movements cut a striking contrast to the bustling brisk woman he knew from earlier. The hospice bed dipped low to the left as she turned tired eyes towards him.

She let out a sigh, the lines of her face drawing together into a tight frown. "Your mind was over-taxed with magic. Simply put, there was just too much magic in flux and that caused you to collapse. There's no telling how two spells will interact," she uttered that last part more to herself than for his benefit. "You see," she continued on in the same small voice, "spells are a malleable force that bend and mold to the other spells in the same system. In your case, the results were well…" Her sentence dangled in the air unfinished. "Dumbledore's enchantment nearly tripled the effects of Hermione's spell. Your body had to physically and magically shut down to cope."

"How did you know that Dumbledore had cast the spell?" he asked a slight suspicion coloring his tone. If there were other teachers in on this conspiracy, he needed to know.

"It had his magical signature on it. When Professor Snape went into your mind, he saw the seal after he dispelled the aftereffects of Hermione's spell."

"You're saying the professor was in my mind?" Marvin forced his weight onto his elbows so that his piercing gaze was now level with the witch's own.

"He used Legilimens to clean up Hermione's residual magic."

"And was he able to do anything about the Headmaster's spell?" He didn't sense anything different, but he had to be sure.

"No," the witch said, waving off his inquiry. "The professor didn't have the authority to do that."

Marvin let his shoulders drop at the witch's announcement as a sharp pain lanced through his body at the unexpected movement. The pillows at his back stung and he winced in spite of the pain.

"But if it's any consolation to you," the witch hurried to address the bitter scowl that now marred his features, "the professor did say that he would be talking with the Headmaster. It's just not like Albus to not tell us about students with pre-existing conditions…"

"Pre-existing conditions?!" he shot back.

"The Headmaster often helps students with magical needs. Just last year he helped a boy with one of the most dreadful memories this school has ever seen. It really helped his Potions grade I assure you." She gave him a tight smile and reached over to smooth the covers at his knees. "Oh, but just listen to me prattle on! That's certainly enough of that," she said with a brief tug to her nurse's robes righting the crinkled fabric. She brushed a hand through her flyaway hair, pinning back the loose strands into her silvering bun. "Now I may not be a Legilimens, like Professor Snape, but I can tell what my patients need, and I can say with the utmost certainty that you, Mr. Grey, need to ask a lot less questions and need a little more relaxation. Your magic readings levels were well below normal. Any less and I'd have had to put you on an Intramageous drip."

She rose from her perch and began picking out potions for him to take, lining them along his bedside table. "You'll need a Strengthening Solution before every meal and I want you to take a magical enhancer in the morning and before bed for the next few days. It's strict bedrest for you for the next two days, so consider yourself a guest of the hospital wing. You won't be getting to Hogsmede this time around, I'm afraid, but you might be able to convince Ron or Hermione to pick something up for you."

"Highly unlikely-- I don't see it happening."

"Oh?" She turned to him with a harrumph of her stout chest. "They both seemed right upset about the whole thing. And Hermione! I had to bribe the girl to take a second dose. She had all but refused until I promised she could see you when you awoke."

Marvin let out a derisive snort, "That's just her guilt talking, Madame Pomfrey. Her Gryffindor nature wouldn't let her curse a fellow student without a little grief," he parried. His words were light, but his manner was not. There was a certain stiffness to his nature that belied his light-hearted façade.

"As long as you're sure, deary," she responded with a whimsical shrug of her own. "I'll be along after supper to see how you're doing. But for now, I strongly suggest that you sleep, as that would be the fastest way for you to recover. I'll be along to check on you shortly." She dimmed the lights to a low glow and closed the curtains to his wards.

...................................

A.N. Well, this chapter was a long time in coming. I spent a looooooooooong time mulling it over. Sorry for the wait. I hope (with all of my fingers crossed and maybe my toes) that the next chapter will be easier to write.

To my beta Serp: I know I say this a lot, but thank you. I really appreciate all the time and effort you put into making my chapters worth reading. It's great to have a second pair of eyes looking over each chapter.

To my readers and reviewers: Also thank you. I am happy to hear that you are enjoying the story so far. I hope you will continue to do so. :)


	20. Chapter 20

"Marvin—psst—Marvin."

Marvin shot up at the terse whisper, groping for a wand that wasn't there. He was still in the hospital wing, he realized, squinting out into the early morning light. Everything about him was cast in a muted shade of grey. He blinked into that haze—once—twice--three times--but it grew steadily worse. It caught on some invisible seam and split to reveal the goofy grin of the red-haired Gryffindor.

"Weasley?" he croaked out.

"Sorry it had to be so early," the floating head hastily responded, "but I wanted to catch you before I left."

The dark boy stared at the boy and marveled. Was this some figment of his imagination, some chimera from his dream-world? But certainly any 'dream' that involved a Weasley would constitute a nightmare—or a daymare in this case.

Perhaps the boy had passed on and was merely haunting him in his sleep?

But, as he watched the head settle into one of the chairs at his bedside, he understood that this imagined specter was less a benign spirit and more a justifiable horror—it was the real thing.

"I wanted to make sure that you were okay," the boy explained shrugging off the heavy cloak that encircled his shoulders.

"Merlin's beard, Weasley! Who in their right mind thinks it's a good idea to wake a patient up at dawn?" he growled. "Did Granger put you up to this?"

He feverously shook his head. "Oh no," he said, "the whole thing was my idea."

Marvin groaned. Was he always going to be stuck with this idiot?! Not only was the boy incapable of complex thought, he harbored delusions of grandeur —not to mention serious misconceptions about the nature of their 'friendship.'

"But speaking of Hermione," the boy blithely continued on, "she does feel right bad about the whole thing, you know. She probably would've come down here had I asked."

"She's just a witch, Weasley." He pinched the bridge of his nose. Now he was both tired _and _irritated. "She just happens to have extremely good luck."

"Whatever you say, Marvin."

A frown tugged at the corner of his lips. He got the distinct feeling that he was being patronized and that rankled. But, there was little if anything he could do about it. He hardly had enough magic to hex a mouse, much less the buffoon before him.

"Anyways, we're heading off to Hogsmede today, and I was wondering if you wanted anything. I've always loved getting a good get-well package in the hospital wing," he added with a grin.

"I don't need anything, Weasley," he said a sudden tiredness sweeping into his voice.

"But, butterbeer and Chocolate Frogs!"

He shook his head in a tight no. "Look Weasley, I really think you should be getting out of here. Madame Pomfrey is going to be around any minute now."

The red-head scanned the room quick for any signs of the white witch. "I don't see her … "

"She has morning rounds."

Ron started sending worried glances over his shoulder, "As long as you're sure about the Chocolate Frogs and everything…"

"I'm sure. Now go."

Ron gave him a brief nod, hastily donning his cloak. "I guess I'll see you later today then, mate." He shimmied his head under the security of the invisibility cloak and was gone—visibly at least. Marvin could still hear him thunder his way across the room and out the door.

It was with that last click of the hospice door that he was finally able to relax. He let the tension out of his shoulders and carefully maneuvered himself back under his covers. He didn't wake for anything until much later that day.

……………………

"Mr. Grey dear, it's time for your medicine." The words broke over his subconscious as an unknown force gripped at his shoulder.

"Too bright," he mumbled in response instinctively turning away from the light. He heard, rather than saw, the distinct clink of hospital bottles, followed by a swift "pop" as Madame Pomfrey readied the potions for him to take.

The scent of marsh-wort overpowered his senses as he reached out to blindly take the concoction. It burned down his throat as he hastily blinked back his tears. The room came into sharp focus and he saw the mediwitch hovered over him with an expectant look on her face.

"How are you feeling today, dear?" she asked, the concern obvious in her voice.

He answered with a tentative stretch to his wand arm. It didn't hurt as bad as yesterday and he could feel the magic slowly coming back to his center. "Not so terrible," he said almost surprised at himself. "When do I get my wand back?"

"Not until tomorrow evening," she said, chuckling lightly at the look that he gave her. "Oh come now. It can't be all that bad. I swear, you dark and broody patients are all alike. You and Serverus are too much alike. Now enough of that sourpuss," she said briskly, rummaging through her nursing bag. "Two of your friends stopped by earlier with these," and she held up two solid packages, "and they practically begged me to give them to you."

Marvin eyed the parcels with a wary gaze hesitantly taking them from the nurse's outstretched hands. "Did you check them for curses?"

"But of course, my dear," she said her smile faltering a bit. The crow's feet at her eyes grew faint as she added, "Standard Book of Spell Grade 9 Curse-Breaking spells." Those would have to do as he had neither the power nor the wand to cast his own.

The first package was from Ron, wrapped in Madame Malkin's conventional gift paper and dotted here and there with large chocolate fingerprints. An image of the red-haired giant flashed through his mind. He could easily see the boy wrapping his gift around a mouthful of Chocolate Frogs of his own.

How typically Ron. And yet, he couldn't help the slight sense of anticipation that filled him as he unwrapped the first frog and bit into it. It was delicious.

He turned to examine the second gift. It was meticulously wrapped and he smirked when he saw the swirl of a familiar script on the card. Even more typically Granger, he thought, and opened the letter.

_Dear Marvin,_

_Although 'dear' might not be a good way to describe the way I feel for you, I'll let it stand for the sake of propriety. This is a research diary. _

He carefully peeled away the wrapping to reveal a small, rather blue, leather-bound book. He read on:

_It's part of a two volume set. I have one and you have the other. Whatever I write in mine will be updated in yours and whatever you write in yours will show up in mine. _

_I figured we could use this when not researching together— but I'll understand if you don't_.

_Hoping for continued research,_

_Hermione Granger_

Marvin turned the cobalt binding over in his hands, tracing its gilded edges with a wandering finger. It seemed innocuous enough, but the way that she described its function could very well revolutionize his research methods.

He allowed himself one tiny smirk before raising his eyes to meet those of the mediwitch. "Madame Pomfrey," he intoned plaintively, "might I borrow a pen. I'd like to make good use of my new gifts."

The nurse was more than happy to oblige, shuffling over to her desk supplies and chortling all the way about "good friends," and "good Gryffindors."

If only she knew, he thought, hiding his widening smirk behind Chocolate Frog. Munching quietly to himself, he penned his first words:

_My __dearest__ Hermione—_

_How fortunate for you that tone and inflection do not transcend the boundaries of the written word. I may have to find a way to modify your __wonderful__ gift._

_I look forward to continuing __our__ research together. It should prove to be an __enlightening __experience._

He signed it with a flourish, all the while chuckling to himself at his incredible turn of luck.

………………………….

A.N. First and foremost, I would like to thank my beta. Wonderful!! I can't even put to words how wonderful it is to work with Serp! (which is saying something as I have penned at least 20,000 words-- and closer to 30,000-- for this story so far!)

Second, I would like to thank my readers and my reviewers. I enjoy reading each and every one of your comments—THANK YOU!!


	21. Chapter 21

It was Sunday evening when the mediwitch gave him his wand back. "Try to avoid any other mind-altering spells," she had warned while handing it over. As if he needed that advice!

He twirled the much-loved piece of wood over Hermione's latest entry, tracing over the letters in a half-caress. He now had everything he needed. Moving the wand tip from the edge of the page onto his hand, he began carving out all the necessary patterns and symbols into the soft flesh that rested there. His tongue molded around the incantation as he raised the diary to his mouth. He half-breathed, half-whispered the spell into the text sealing it with a brush of his lips and a swipe of his hand. His blood flashed once cutting a stark contrast against the crisp white parchment. And just like that, he was thrown into its depths.

.................

Marvin smirked as he slowly became accustomed to his new environment. The spell had worked perfectly, he thought congratulating himself. He was now looking out onto the world through Hermione Granger's eyes.

The girl was sitting cross-legged in a yellowish chair that now seemed more marigold than yellow from age with her knobbly knees poking out from under her robes. He could see a blank piece of parchment peeking out from the corner of his peripheral vision-- or rather _her_ peripheral vision if one was being picky-- with the beginnings of a note on it.

He reached out with ethereal fingers, pulling on the mental strings that would gently nudge her head down. A small red book lay nestled between the black folds in her lap with his name penned in flowing script at the top. It was her half of the diary and he had caught her writing mid-sentence.

_My dearest Marvin, _he moved her eyes across the page, _meet me in the alcove tomorrow. I want to work on—_

But that was as far as he'd gotten when her diary closed with a SLAM!!

His vision reeled as Hermione's head swiveled around, blurring the wall-hangings together in a wash of red. He blinked away the vertigo, his eyes coming to focus on a head of fiery red locks that also seemed to blend into the background. This new girl leaned over towards Granger, a disconcerted scowl tugging at her freckled face. She was obviously a Weasley. He just couldn't remember which. _Winny, Timmy, Jimmy..._

"Ginny!" Hermione called out. Apparently she had no such trouble as the name practically jumped off her tongue. There was a note of surprise in her voice that Marvin could feel all the way across her thoughts. The rippling rainbow hue, however, was soon streaked with a dark purple as the red-haired girl shoved an accusing finger against her little red book.

"What—is— this?!" she spat out.

Hermione instinctively curled in, tucking the book between her knees and her chest. "Nothing," she said, shifting her eyes nervously about the room. "It's nothing."

The red-haired girl straightened to her full height, her hands rushing to meet her waist. "If it's such a 'nothing,' why are you acting like it's such a something?" She swooped down trying to pry the book from her legs.

"Merlin Ginny! It's just my diary," Hermione yelled, throwing her weight into her knees. "And I don't want you to read it. So shove off!"

Ginny jumped back, giving herself at least three feet before the struggling girl. A strange look suffused her cheeks as she held Hermione's diary aloft for the girl to see. The small red book was clutched tight within her tiny fists.

"Ginny don't! Give it back! That's m—!" But Ginny wasn't listening as she began to flip through the first few pages.

Her movements stopped cold. "_My dearest Marvin!?"_ she screeched, her voice rising an entire octave. "You've been writing to _him _this whole time!?" Marvin mentally cringed. He didn't need to be a Parselmouth to hear the venom in her voice. "I thought you said that you were buying this for a _friend."_

"He _is_ a friend, Ginny. The 'dear' part was done mostly as a joke..."

"A joke?! I told you to stay away from this guy!"

Hermione was practically pleading with her roommate to see reason, "It's just a research diary, Ginny— for _research_."

"It's not 'just research'!" she bellowed. "You're always hanging out with him, doing stuff with him, I mean— Dumbledore's beard, Hermione— in Hogsmeade you were even sticking up for him!"

"Yeah well, it's just plain wrong to speak about somebody behind their backs. Especially when they just got cursed and--"

"He deserved to be cursed!"

"Ginevra Weasley!" Hermione reared up and smacked the book out of Ginny's hands. It fell with a "thud" and Hermione dove over to pick it up from the floor.

"Fine then!" she yelled, her whole body shaking in anger. "Keep the damn thing!" She stalked out with a slam of the door.

……………………………………………………

Marvin catapulted from Hermione's mind just as quickly as he had entered. The spell had been easy enough to perform, but it certainly left its mark upon the user. He pressed a tissue into his abused skin. Thin rune lines soon seeped through the paper in a delicate pattern of red. That, he readily acknowledged, was an unfortunate but inevitable side-effect to his type of magic. He had wanted an opening into the girl's mind and had to pay for it with this.

That was the one thing about practicing dark magic—it typically required some sort of compensation, and usually it was blood. And while he had only a few qualms about spilling others', he wasn't always eager to spill his own. Call him a sadist any day of the week, but he was far from a masochist.

He would have to cover up the wound at any rate. He couldn't leave it to chance for Madame Pomfrey to find out about. She would have him in the hospital wing for the rest of the week—or worse yet, tell someone like Dumbledore or Professor Snape. They would surely recognize the markings for what they were, even if she did not.

So, with his eminent freedom looming in the back of his mind, he whispered a spell along the ridges of his wounded hand. It began to prickle and sting as the skin peeled off in translucent layers. Soon, he was looking down at a whole and healthy hand. He gathered the pieces of his shed skin together and tossed it in the bin. It was a trick he had picked up from his reptilian friends and one that had served him quite well.

"Madame Pomfrey," he waited until the witch popped her head in through the curtains, "I think I'm ready to go back now."

"Well that's good news," she said bustling in, placing the leftover Strengthening Solution and magic enhancers in his bag. "Just one more diagnostic check and--" she waved her wand, "you are free to go, Mr. Grey. As much as I'll miss you, I hope not to see you back any time soon."

Marvin sent her a quick one-sided grin, bowing his way out of the hospital room. A weekend was a long time to spend as an invalid and he was glad to be on his own two feet again. He took the stairs two at a time, passing by the eagle so quick it barely had time to finish its question, much less register his response. And he outright ignored the questions from his curious roommates.

He tossed the "new-and-improved" diary at his feet and dropped to his bed with a tiny sigh. The sheets felt good and cool against his cheek even if they were still an abominable blue and yellow. He had a long night ahead of him, but he was glad to be going to sleep in his own bed.

………………………………………

A.N. Well there we have it, chapter 23! What do you think? ;)

This chapter (and every other chapter before) was beta'd by Serpent in red with wonderful suggestions and comments. Those comments and suggestions certainly helped this chapter come together!

To my readers and reviewers: great big THANKS! I love it when you read this story, and I love it when you review this story. Here's to you all!


	22. Chapter 22

The wide double doors of the library opened in the characteristic silence of well-oiled hinges. Marvin, ever mindful of that blessed silence, made his way over to his usual alcove on padded footsteps. _The girl was already there_, he noted with a frown. She was bent over a stack of books and writing furiously.

He slid around to the back of her chair and wrapped his long digits around the aged wood. "If it isn't the hexer herself. How are you today—_Hermione?_" He managed to force out. "Better after your latest brush with hysteria?"

The girl before him shot up, tense and alert. She had to twist her whole body around to see him. Her head and neck were forced at an odd angle. "I didn't mean to hex you!"

Then, that mass of curls flopped forward onto her knees. Her hair formed a curtain between him and her face.

"It was an accident."

Marvin had to lean in to hear what she'd said. His face was now mere inches from her mop of brown. "Oh?" The frizz and flyaways that were her hair flickered under his breath. "So the all those spells, the intricate wand movements—they all just _happened_ to happen? That's quite an—_accident—_for someone so- _capable_." He bent down so that his lips brushed up against the tiny ringlets that framed her ear. "It's a wonder they even gave you a wand."

"I—I didn't know!" Her voice went higher and higher, became breathier. "I didn't know the spell would react that way."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry," she said. "I'd say it again a galleon times over if it would make a difference. I'd even turn back time—I had a time-turner once, you know."

Marvin watched the girl. She folded and refolded the hem of her skirt. She stacked and restacked the books on the table.

"I'm so sorry."

He saw her jaw muscles clench and unclench around the words. The lines at the bridge of her nose pinched together and the corners of her mouth drew down. She blinked a few times. Her eyes shone bright, and her lashes had started to bunch underneath them.

"Say it again," he ordered.

"I'm sorry."

"Again."

"I'm sorry."

"Again."

"I'm sorry."

His dark eyes stared down at her, searching, questioning, assessing. If he just turned his head to the right, he could almost imagine her like that girl with enormous glasses—the annoying one from the prefect's bathroom. He held her gaze as though he were the basilisk and she that nosey muggle-born— _mudblood_—witch. And she opened her mouth and then screamed, her mouth growing larger and wider and larger and wider.

_He would be swallowed whole! He was going to be swallowed whole! _

He wrenched his hands free and turned to flee, but he stumbled into something. A bookshelf. He recognized that. And there—there was Hermione's face. But the room kept on spinning, and spinning, and spinning. And he saw two great baleful eyes with two bright yellow orbs and a mouth that never ended. It was coming for him. It was coming for him!

He thought he heard his name from the tangle of books and limbs on the chair in front of him, but it was too late. It was too late!

His heart pounded in his chest—first low in his stomach then high in his throat. He couldn't breathe! He couldn't breathe. His heart was blocking his throat!

"Marvin!" The spectre was coming for him.

"No! No! No! NO!" He yelled. Books and parchment flew from the shelves and swirled around him. He clutched at his wand and pressed the wood to his head. Then he ran—no sprinted—to the library doors. They slammed shut with a resounding 'boom.'

Hermione sank to her knees among the papers and parchment that fluttered in his wake wrapping her arms around her face. Her body shook—once, twice, three times. 'Plink.' Something fell across an open page. 'Plink-plink.' There it was again. The words and the spells blurred into a wash of grey.

...

Marvin bolted from the library with images cascading through his memories. There were people, places, and times. Things he wasn't sure of mixed with things he thought he knew. And now, he couldn't really be sure of anything. 1943 rang through the madness. He clung to it just as he clung to the castle's clammy stone walls.

"I am Marvin," he said. "Marvin. Marvolo Grey."

He scraped his head against the stone. It bit into his skin. He relished the pinch and burn of the gravel. It was real. It was refreshing.

"Why can't I think? I need help! I need answers!"

Nothing. He heard nothing in reply, just the shuffle of uncertain feet. There—at the corner of some balustrade—was somebody, some student. _Yellow and black_, his mind supplied for him. _Hufflepuff_.

The boy didn't even have the guts to look him in the eye. He passed by on the opposite side of the hallway.

"Do you know what MARVOLO means?"

When the boy didn't answer, Marvin reached out and grabbed him by the cloak. "I said," and he repeated the question slowly, word-for-word as though talking to a dullard, "do you know what MARVOLO means?"

The boy still didn't answer.

He took the boy's cloak in both hands and shook him hard before throwing him to the ground.

"You're useless to me."

But the boy didn't care. He scurried backward on the floor until he gained his footing. Then, he turned and ran and never once looked back.

Once again, Marvin was left alone with his dark hair and his even darker eyes.

…..

A.N.: Okay, so wow! I might be back. It proved too much to experiment with a new story and not come back to this one. For those of you who waited, and waited, and waited—thank you! I still have plans for this story. This upcoming semester (and the rest of my life) will determine how and when I will be able to update. Don't lose hope!

To Serp: Hey, I know it has been a long time. If you are still up to beta-ing let me know. (I am almost certain I have forgotten how to punctuate a sentence.) Sigh. It is a never-ending battle.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.


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